


The Gods In The Sky

by SinisterSound



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate universe switches, Apocalyptic sort of, Based on a wonderful twitter prompt, But hopefully not too confusing, College!Ateez, Commentary on the stagnation of society, Fake science. So much fake science., Finals Week, Frat house leader!Hongjoong, Hala Hala!AU, Hala Hala!Ateez, I still don’t know how to tag?, Interrogation and anti-government operations, Knives and swords, Lots of confusion, M/M, Mentions of various mental illnesses, Morally Ambiguous Characters, Operative leader!Hongjoong, PTSD, Second in command!Seonghwa, Stresses college students, Sweet boyfriend!Seonghwa, This is sort of a mess God help ne, Trigger and flashbacks, a little bit of mystery?, anxiety and depression, dark themes, more tags may be added, violence and fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 129,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: A hundred lives across a million realities.No one is the same, but does anything really change?College student Hongjoong falls asleep and wakes up in a world that’s been burning as long as anyone can remember, but he has finals next week.War-hardened Hongjoong wakes up to faces he recognizes but no one he trusts, but in his world, trust is the only way to survive.All they want is to go home.A college student and a resistance leader wake up in each other worlds....What a fucking joke.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 282
Kudos: 2250
Collections: Best Ateez Fics





	1. Who Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, the idea for this AU came directly to me from @sharkhwa on Twitter, so if you like it, give her some love, too! 
> 
> Secondly, I tried my best to remain true to the plot I was given, but I often lose my plots as I write, so I’m really nervous about this one >~<  
> I’m not entirely happy, but the only way to find out is to post it!  
> (In warning, updates for this may be slower given my work schedule!)
> 
> My biggest concern is whether or not all the different versions of people cause confusion, so please let me know if it’s too confusing!!! 
> 
> Thank you so much to sharkhwa for this amazing prompt, and thank all of you for being so invested in it!! Please let me know what you think, and have an amazing day, lovelies!  
> -SS

It happened after lunch. 

(It happened in the dead of night.) 

There was nothing strange to warn of it. 

(He had felt something shifting, something wrong, following him the whole day.) 

There was no indication that Hongjoong should feel fear for anything other than his English final the following week. 

(Hongjoong kept twitching, his hand ghosting over the knife at his side, sharp eyes glaring at the shadows of night, as if daring them to attack.) 

Hongjoong asked Seonghwa what their plans were for the weekend. 

(Hongjoong asked Seonghwa if he could feel that in the air- that buzzing?) 

Seonghwa simply shrugged, asking if he wanted to rent a movie. 

(Seonghwa frowned in dark concern, glancing around, as if tasting the air against his skin. But shook his head.) 

Hongjoong huffed, not really wanting to waste his weekend like that, as he buried himself deep in his hoodie, trying to think of something fun to do. 

(Hongjoong tugged the brim of his hat lower, as if to hide his searching eyes from whatever was watching- the dusty boots on his feet creaking as he shifted his weight in preparation.) 

Hongjoong glared at the ceiling, bored out of his mind. 

(Hongjoong’s eyes snapped around the room, sensing and knowing that something was wrong, something was different-) 

The frat house was way too quiet for a lazy afternoon with no classes. 

(The base creaked and shifted under its own weight, sending soundwaves bouncing around Hongjoong who stiffened under each shift, like it was a blade pressing closer.) 

Call him ungrateful, but Hongjoong was going stir crazy. 

(Call him paranoid, but Hongjoong knew something was coming.) 

“I’m going to take a nap,” Hongjoong announced, standing. “Don’t wake me for dinner.” 

(“Go to sleep,” Seonghwa ordered when he passed by and saw Hongjoong still standing there, despite the darkness that had long since fallen. “You’ll upset yourself enough to attack Jongho getting up for water in the night,” he warned.) 

Seonghwa hummed, barely acknowledging him as he continued to pour over his Bio texts. 

(Hongjoong glared at Seonghwa for his attitude, but knew that frazzled nerves and no sleep never ended well for anyone here.) 

Hongjoong flopped on his bed- shoving Seonghwa’s textbooks aside and hoping Yunho didn’t play his games too loudly, three rooms over. 

(Hongjoong didn’t lay down, but he sat in a large armchair, staring at the shadows on the wall that seemed to dance- almost hypnotizing.) 

Hongjoong buried himself deep in the covers, eyes closing as the quiet of the afternoon was finally good for something. 

(The waltz that the shadows created made Hongjoong’s eyes heavy as the late hour caught up to him as the weariness of the day settled on him like a blanket.) 

Hongjoong fell asleep. 

(Hongjoong fell asleep.) 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong woke up feeling stiff and cold, which was odd. 

His bed was super fucking comfortable, and his blankets were handmade by his mom (for Christmas), and usually were too good at heating to use during anything but the dead of winter. 

Plus, Seonghwa was usually there, being a personal heater when even his blankets might fail him. 

But he woke up uncomfortable, his neck aching and his back stiff- as if he had been sleeping on a brick or something. 

He whined, trying to burrow deeper into the blankets, rolling onto his side- 

His head hit something hard, and Hongjoong jerked into being fully awake as he clutched at his forehead, rubbing at it sharply as his mood soured by being woken up so harshly. 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, trying to figure out if maybe he had fallen asleep next to his laptop again- 

The room was pitch black when he opened his eyes, and Hongjoong wasn’t really surprised that he would have napped until nighttime (it happened more than he cared to admit). 

However, he was confused when he finally oriented himself, and realized he was sitting up already. 

Blinking in the darkness, Hongjoong’s hands groped around for the lamp- 

He was in an armchair, he realized, running his hands over smooth leather. He frowned. They didn’t have any leather armchairs, did they? 

Was this some sort of prank? 

Hongjoong stood, head still throbbing from where he hit it on the edge of the chair, presumably. His room never got this dark… 

Had Yunho and them moved him again?

Once, Hongjoong had woken up halfway into the pool in the backyard, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to find himself in another of his friend’s beds, outside, down the block, or even in a trashcan (thanks for that, Wooyoung…). 

Hongjoong was still going to kill them, if they stuck him in a shed while he was napping and left him there until midnight- or whatever fucking time it was. 

Groping around, he tried to find something to guide him to the door. Not even knowing where he was a little unsettling, but his friends wouldn’t put him somewhere dangerous (without supervision). 

A draft suddenly blew through, and Hongjoong shivered through his thin t-shirt and sweatpants, glancing around with a frown. Were there any caves near the university? That’s what it felt like. 

But Hongjoong continued to stumble forward, not feeling anything- 

His bare feet stepped off of the rough carpet, landing something what felt like cold cement and Hongjoong frowned deeper, feeling the abrasive texture beneath his skin. 

“Guys, this is stupid,” he huffed, continuing on carefully. “If I cut my fucking foot open-” 

Hongjoong’s foot hit something hard and wooden- a dull thunk ringing in the silence as he cursed, jerking his foot away- his little toe throbbing. His hands ran along rough wood, like that in the shape of a chest. 

“I’m going to kill you, Yunho,” he hissed, moving along a bit quicker, sweeping his arms in front of him to find something to guide him- 

His hand brushed a wall, and Hongjoong made a triumphant noise, clinging to it- it was rough, like the floor, made of cement. He dragged his hands along it as a guide, knowing that at some point, he must hit a door. 

He expected to keep tripping over things, but his path was clear as he dragged his fingertips over rough material until- 

Door! 

His hand touched the wood- the only smooth thing he had come across- and he chuckled in triumph as he groped for the doorknob. 

Fingers curling fast around the cold metal knob, Hongjoong twisted, half expecting it to be locked, but it gave way easily- even if the door was heavy enough for him to need to lean into it. 

His friends were really going all out, huh? It wasn’t homecoming week, was it? Usually, their pranks stayed pretty mild until then… 

Exams must be making them a little more wild. 

Hongjoong stumbled out, expecting to see outside or maybe an abandoned fucking warehouse, if San had been involved. 

He didn’t expect a long hallway, with dim electric lights and candles studded on the walls that flickered and casted shadows that danced… 

Hongjoong frowned, feeling uneasy for the first time as he glanced around. 

Where the hell was he? He knew all their usual hiding spots…. He didn’t recognize this place at all… 

Frowning, he stepped out into the hall- the rough cement turning to cold tile. He glanced down and saw dark grey flooring leading in both directions- a few doors dotted along the hall. 

“Guys?” Hongjoong called, hoping that they might be hiding behind one, or maybe around a corner. “Guys- this isn’t funny anymore,” he called nervously, turning left and walking down slowly. 

He glanced at the rough walls, waiting for a door to burst open to try and scare him. 

“Yunho?” he muttered, glancing around, like they might drop from the ceiling. 

He was going to kill Seonghwa for letting them get away with something so fucking weird. He was going to have to have a serious talk about how fucking far they were allowed to go with pranks. 

He had almost reached the end- a slightly brighter light coming from the room it was leading him to- 

“Guys!” Hongjoong yelled, fists clenching nervously, but not wanting to go into the room and have them jump out to scare him. 

But, if it meant they showed their faces, he would take a heart attack just to get rid of the creepy feeling of this place. 

“I mean it!” he yelled, not taking a step forward, his feet aching from the cold. “It’s not funny-” 

He heard a door open quickly behind him. 

He stiffened, turning- 

A hand suddenly grabbed Hongjoong’s hair too fucking tight- like he wanted to tear it out- 

Hongjoong almost screamed, his hands scrambling for fist that dragged him to the side, slamming him into the wall hard enough for the abrasive cement to tear through the palms of his hands that tried to catch him- 

Real fear hit Hongjoong for the first time- his voice dying even as he tried to scream- 

This was not a prank. 

His face was pressed hard into the wall- the rough material scratching his cheek roughly as his tried to breathe around the terrified half-sobs sticking in his throat as he breathed too quickly, too loudly- 

“How did you get in here?” a rough voice demanded dangerously, shoving Hongjoong harder into the wall, making his forehead rub against the harsh surface that tore through his skin- 

He cried weakly in the back of his throat, cold fear making his eyes clench shut tightly- 

“I- I  _ didn’t _ ,” he cried, heart stopping. “I- I don’t know where I am-” 

His heart was beating too fast, too painful. 

“ _ Shut it, _ ” they growled lowly, shoving him further against the wall- one hand wrapped around the back of his neck and keeping him in place- 

Something thin and sharp suddenly slid against Hongjoong’s cheek, making him flinch with a whimper and crack an eye open. 

A knife that looked sharp enough to cut air pressed against his cheek- just the gentle pressure enough to have it slicing through the top layers of his skin, without drawing blood. 

Tears filled his eyes. 

Was this a kidnapping? Some sort of organ black market? 

“Please,” He whispered, fingers scratching at the wall, voice breaking. “Please, I- I don’t know-” 

Suddenly, Hongjoong was being yanked away from the wall, a cry tearing from his throat as he was flipped around, his back shoved against it- a hand on his throat, choking him so harshly, he could barely open his eyes- 

Viscous, suffocating fear clogged Hongjoong’s senses as his head spun with each heaving breath his lungs struggled to take. 

The figure before him was dressed in black- but all he really saw was a thick leather mask drawn over his mouth, hiding everything but eyes that were sharper than his knife. 

Hongjoong’s head smacked against the wall as he was shoved back harshly- 

The hand suddenly loosened- the knife he hadn’t even felt being pressed to his chest, withdrawing. 

The eyes over the edge of the mask lost some of their anger, brows drawing down deeply. 

Hongjoong sucked in shaking breaths around the tears streaming down his face, hyperventilating and shaking so hard, he could barely stand- 

“Hongjoong?” the figure asked, utter confusion and shock in their tone. “What-” 

“What the  _ hell  _ is happening?” 

Hongjoong hadn’t heard another door open, but he risked glancing down the hall as the figure also turned to look- 

Hongjoong’s heart stopped as he recognized the figure striding down the hall- a grey shirt and dark pants clinging to their frame- 

“ _ Seonghwa- _ ” 

Hongjoong practically sobbed his name, and maybe moving wasn’t the brightest idea, but the figure before him was no longer holding him so tightly, the knife hanging at his side- 

Hongjoong tore away from him, sprinting down the hall- rough cement tearing into his feet as he practically tackled Seonghwa- burying his head in his chest desperately. 

Relief flooded him as he conveniently forgot about the man with the knife. 

“What-” Seonghwa stiffened as his hand suddenly grabbed Hongjoong’s shoulder- 

Hongjoong flinched a the rough tough- fingertips digging painfully into his shoulder as Seonghwa shoved him back- 

Shoved him… away...?

Hongjoong stumbled back a step, Seonghwa holding him firmly at arm’s length, and something almost broke in Hongjoong’s chest as hurt and confusion struck him. 

Seonghwa… had never acted like that towards Hongjoong. Seonghwa couldn’t even bring himself to deny Hongjoong a hug- much less shove Hongjoong around- 

But it wasn’t until he looked up at Seonghwa’s face… that Hongjoong felt a different kind of fear. 

His eyes. 

Those… Those were not Seonghwa’s eyes. 

Those were not the same eyes that scrunched when he smiled in a way that looked almost pained with laughter. Not the ones that rolled when Hongjoong did something stupid. Not the ones that widened when Hongjoong would get brave and peck his cheek while they were walking to class- 

These… were like that man’s knife. 

Cold… sharp… threatening. 

Dangerous. 

Seonghwa had never… never looked like that before. Certainly… never at Hongjoong. 

If Hongjoong were being more coherent, he might also balk at the stark blond of Seonghwa’s usually dark hair, but he could only see those eyes… 

Those weren’t his eyes. . 

“S-Seonghwa,” he rasped, tears drying on his cheeks. “Wh-What are you-” 

“Hongjoong- what the hell are you doing?” he demanded, so rough and…  _ angry.  _ Those sharp eyes dragged across Hongjoong’s body liked a blade- threatening to cut, and making Hongjoong terrified to move. 

Hongjoong had never… never felt threatened by Seonghwa before. 

He had never felt afraid of him. 

Hongjoong wanted to wake up now- from whatever dream he was living, he didn’t want to see this anymore. He was scared, he had never been scared of Seonghwa before- 

“San- what the  _ hell  _ happened?” Seonghwa snapped, his voice a kind of angry that never belong there- that had never existed in Seonghwa’s voice before. 

Seonghwa yelled at them all the time- he was never supposed to sound so… so  _ dangerous.  _

Seonghwa looking passed Hongjoong like he was just a crack in a wall. 

Hongjoong’s heart stopped as his terrified mind caught up. 

_ San? _

He turned quickly, everything wrong, wrong,  _ wrong-  _

The figure raised their knife, pointing it at Hongjoong as their other hand reached up, pulling the mask down. 

San’s face stared at them in annoyed confusion from down the hall. “I heard yelling while on watch,” he said- 

It was San’s face. It was San’s voice. 

Those weren’t San’s eyes. 

Hongjoong blood turned cold because like Seonghwa, that was not  _ San-  _

He didn’t know what was  _ happening.  _

“Found him wandering around.” His voice was crisp, like a book you couldn’t force open- fresh from the factory. “I thought it was an intruder because- well,  _ look  _ at him,” he said, jerking his knife, making Hongjoong flinch. “I don’t understand- but it’s…  _ Look  _ at him,” he stressed. 

As if there was something wrong with  _ Hongjoong _ . 

As if Hongjoong was not being bruised by his boyfriend and threatened with a knife by one of his best friends- 

“Hongjoong-” 

Seonghwa’s hand squeezed that much tighter on his shoulder, and Hongjoong broke- shoving his painful grip off and stumbling back with a cry of anger, fear, frustration-  _ something. _

“Stop it!” he yelled, voice echoing in the hall, heart beating faster as he tried to keep both of them in his sight. “I don’t know what the hell the two of you are doing, but  _ stop it _ ! This is fucking  _ funny-  _ I’m-” 

Hongjoong’s voice broke as fear surged again while they continued to stare at him darkly- as if there was something wrong with  _ him.  _

“You’re freaking me out,” he cried weakly, glancing between the two of them. “Just- Stop it,” He begged. “I want- I want to go home, just… Stop it- Whatever fucking prank you’re pulling…” 

Hongjoong felt like his heart was trying to stop, the longer their cold eyes stared at him- pressing like the blade that was lowered at San’s side. 

Neither of them laughed. 

Neither of them softened their gaze. 

Neither of them comforted him. 

Hongjoong started breathing faster, the longer their silence went unbroken, something building in his chest, dangerously cold. He stepped until his back hit the wall of the hallway, eyes flickering back and forth between the two. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said- voice dark and dangerous. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded. 

“ _ Me? _ ” Hongjoong practically screamed, tears filling his eyes again. “ _ Stop it!  _ It’s not fucking funny!” he begged. “I don’t know what the  _ hell  _ I did to make you think this would be okay, but if you don’t call it off  _ right now,  _ I’m going to- to-” 

What? 

Hongjoong’s legs trembled under his own weight as his arms wrapped around himself. “Stop it, guys… Please…” 

Mercilessly, they stared on. 

Terror began to writhe its way into Hongjoong’s heart. 

“Where the hell did you get those clothes?” San demanded- sharp and brisk. “What- What the hell did you do to your  _ hair _ ?”

“Stop- You were  _ there _ !” Hongjoong yelled, fisting his t-shirt. “You were both fucking there when we all tie-dyed shit until 3 AM! You were there when I had a fucking breakdown because of Music Theory and  _ you  _ were the fucking one who told me to bleach it white!” 

He japped a shaking, accusing finger at San. 

“I’m giving you guys one more fucking chance,” Hongjoong threatened weakly, voice shaking patheticaly. “Call off this prank now- I thought we were fucking  _ friends.  _ This is going  _ way  _ too fucking far.” 

He glared at San, who simply stared in almost disgusted confusion- as if Hongjoong wasn’t making any sense. 

San was mischievous… but he wasn’t cruel. He would never do something so horrible- that knife had been  _ real _ … But he still gazed at Hongjoong distastefully. 

Hongjoong’s chest cracked as he turned angry eyes on Seonghwa. 

His Seonghwa… who never looked at him so coldly. So emotionlessly. 

Hongjoong’s eyes held a warning. Seonghwa knew Hongjoong better than anyone else in the world. He knew when he was done playing. He knew when he had reached his limits. 

He should have long since called this off… 

Hongjoong didn’t know what he could have done that might have pissed them off enough to go so far, but he knew that nothing was worth scaring him like this. 

But Seonghwa didn’t crack under his glare. He didn’t lose the mask and apologize. 

He didn’t wipe Hongjoong’s tears away and whisper apologies for being so stupid to go so far. 

He didn’t tug Hongjoong to his chest and hold him while Hongjoong cried out the fear that still ran through his veins. 

He didn’t even blink when Hongjoong’s tear-filled eyes glared at him. 

And Hongjoong felt like the knife San carried was stabbed firmly in his back. 

Seonghwa… of all people… 

“Fuck you guys,” Hongjoong spat, betrayal and anger gripping his stomach sickeningly. “Seriously,” he snapped, stepped away. “Really- fuck you to hell and back.” 

He turned, and he ran. He was sick of this game. 

His friends could be assholes- he knew this as he practically shoved San aside, running out of the hallway. 

“Hongjoong!” He heard San’s voice yelling after him. 

They could be assholes, but they had never been cruel. 

Hongjoong’s vision blurred with hot tears as he ran into a better-lit room that was nothing more than a few desks scattered around with papers covering them. 

There was only one door to go through, and Hongjoong sprinted through it- not even realizing when the ground turned from cement to smooth wood. 

He entered another, short hallway- not even bothering to look around. He just wanted to get out of here. 

And then cry himself to sleep before finding the others- they couldn’t all be in on this. 

He ran through a bright, tiled room, rubbing at his tears. 

Yeosang would never go along with something so horrible. Yunho could never bring himself to act so heartlessly. 

None of his friends… none of them should have been able to hurt him so badly. 

He tore open a door, running through what looked like a study- filled with nothing but books and what looked like scrolls of paper- 

“Hongjoong!” He heard someone else’s voice yell, too far to tell who it was. 

Hongjoong didn’t want a fucking apology right now. 

He tore through the other side of the office, sprinting through a door. He came into an open area- an entrance hall with a large staircase heading up to a balcony floor. Where the fuck had they dragged him to? 

He didn’t really care at the moment, his heart twisting in betrayal. 

A large, wooden door standing at the other end of the entrance hall. Which had better be the fucking way outside. 

Hongjoong stormed across it, skin too wet with more tears to really actually clear his eyes as his bare feet slapped against tile while he ran to the door. 

He grabbed the handle, twisting it roughly. “Fuck both of them,” Hongjoong hissed, shaking as he tore the door open, sprinting out a few steps- 

Heat blasted Hongjoong’s face painfully- like opening a hot oven too close to your skin- 

He cried out, flinching away and bringing his arm up to block the heat- 

His face paled, heart stopped. 

Through the door, there was no lawn. No street. No path leading to a road that he could take back to the frat house. 

There were only flames. 

And in the back of his mind, Hongjoong thought he was dreaming of hell. 

He could see grass and trees… they were all burning and smouldering. The sky wasn’t blue, but a burnt orange hue with clouds that looked like a toxic black mass staining the sky. 

Particles blew in the wind that felt like waves of heat and misery blasting through the air. 

Hongjoong didn’t even need to look closely to know it was ash. 

He stood, his mouth open in horror, his feet aching at the sudden heat as he stood on the doorstep of a world that was burning. 

Why… Why was the world burning? 

Hongjoong stared in horror, tears evaporating off of his skin that felt tight and dry- 

“ _ Hongjoong! _ ” 

A hand grabbed his arm with bruising force, yanking him back harsh enough to jar his shoulder- making him cry out- 

He blinked, and he was back inside- the chilled air suddenly freezing after the heat, and the door slamming shut loud enough to make him flinch- 

“What the hell are you thinking?” Seonghwa snapped, his hand gripping Hongjoong’s upper arm too tight, making him wince. “Going outside without your mask? These stupid clothes-” 

“You’re hurting me,” Hongjoong ground out when the fingers digging into his arm became too painful. He shoved at Seonghwa’s hands weakly, teeth gritting against the pain- 

“Hurting you?” Seonghwa said flatly, staring at Hongjoong as if he was speaking in tongues. “Hongjoong, this is ridicul-” 

“ _ Let go! _ ” he yelled, tears prickling as the five contact points throbbed sharply, a cry stuckin his throat- pathetic and weak, but it fucking  _ hurt-  _

Seonghwa released Hongjoong who jerked away, curling his arm to his chest, breathing heavily- 

“What the  _ hell  _ is happening?” Hongjoong panted, breathing too quick, his head spinning too fast to steady himself. Behind Seonghwa, San stood with an ominous dark expression. “What- What the hell is that?” he demanded angrily, pointing to the door that was shut tightly. 

“You know what that is,” Seonghwa said darkly. “You know very well what’s out there.” 

“No!” Hongjoong yelled fearfully. “No, I fucking don’t! Why- It’s fucking  _ burning  _ out there! What the hell  _ is  _ that?”

“Hell,” San answered flatly. “The same one we see everyday.” 

“No, it’s fucking not!” he cried, sucking in deeper breaths as his legs trembled. “Hell is fucking- Mr. Byun’s class! It’s exam week and shit! It’s not- not fucking  _ that _ !” 

Was Seoul burning? 

“It’s our world,” Seonghwa said coldly, expression growing harder. “Hongjoong, you know this. We lived through this-” 

“I’ve never seen a city burn!” he snapped. “This- What is fucking  _ happening _ ?” 

This… couldn’t be a prank. 

How the hell was the city  _ burning? _

But if it wasn’t a prank… what the hell was it? Because there  _ was  _ a city burning. These  _ were  _ two of his best friends. 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly. “I must be fucking dreaming,” he whispered hoarsely, staring at the two of them in horror. “This can’t be real.” 

“Who is Mr. Byun?” San asked, as if he couldn’t hear Hongjoong’s terrified whispers. 

“Don’t fucking act like you didn’t almost flunk his Lit class,” Hongjoong muttered, shaking his head weakly. 

“Lit class,” Seonghwa repeated, eyes growing dark with confusion. “Hongjoong, you aren’t making any sense- what happened to you? You were fine last night-” 

“ _ I’m  _ not the one being crazy!” he shouted, voice breaking. “ _ You guys  _ are the ones with fucking knives, and citites that are burning!”

“It’s not the cities,” San replied rotely. 

Hongjoong choked. “What?”

“You  _ know  _ it’s not the cities burning,” San pressed harshly, taking a step forward. “You know there’s nothing out there.” 

“N-Nothing…” He felt like his legs were about to come out from under him. The edge of his vision began to blur and grow dark- tinged a sickening green. “What do you mean… nothing out there…?” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said sharply- harsh in a way he had never said Hongjoong’s name before, even as his voice sounded distant. 

It sounded so wrong, so foreign to be said so coldly- 

There’s no way this was his Seonghwa- but what the hell else could he be?

“ _ Hongjoong, _ ” He repeated, colder, when Hongjoong didn’t immediately focus on him. “Where do you think you are?” he demanded. 

“‘Think’?” he hissed. “Where else would we be?” 

Had he hit his head? Was this a coma or something? Did he have amnesia? Was he just plain, fucking insane? 

“Where do you think you are?” Seonghwa snarled- an order wrapped in a threat that made Hongjoong recoil another inch. 

“Seoul,” He answered weakly. 

He wished he was home… 

“Seoul?” San asked, his tongue stumbling over the word, as if he had never heard it. 

“It’s what they used to call the Capital,” Seonghwa said coldly without looking at San, his expression darkening as he glared at Hongjoong. 

“Why the hell would you be near the Capital?” San demanded, his knife lifted again, fire dancing in his eyes. “Did they fucking brainwash you or something?”

“No,” Seonghwa answered, still never taking his eyes off of Hongjoong- his gaze heavy enough that Hongjoong knew he wasn’t breathing. “Who the hell are you?” Seonghwa demanded lowly, another threat rasping in his throat. 

Hongjoong couldn’t even be angry anymore. There was only confusion and fear clogging his veins sickeningly.

His head was spinning too much. “Hongjoong,” he answered- maybe trying to be smart, but it came out slightly slurred. 

“No,” Seonghwa broke in sharply, making Hongjoong flinch. “No, you aren’t our leader. You are  _ not  _ the man I decided to follow.” He almost sounded betrayed. 

Hongjoong wanted to ask questions, but his tongue felt too heavy. 

Seonghwa hand flashed backwards, and suddenly San’s knife was wrapped in his hand- 

Hongjoong whimpered as he was slammed into the thick wooden door, an arm pressed to his throat and the tip of the knife drawing blood beneath his chin. 

He tried to shy away, but he had nowhere to go, eyes clenching shut and the only thing keeping him upright being Seonghwa’s body pinning him to the door. 

Tears pricked at his eyes once more as he tried not to audibly sob when they fell. 

Was Seonghwa… going to kill him? 

So fucking wrong, wrong, wrong- 

“ _ Who the hell are you? _ ” Seonghwa ground out, chest rumbling with anger and voice cold enough to burn. “ _ What did you do with our leader? _ ”

Hongjoong wanted to maybe beg for his life. 

Maybe sob. Maybe fight. 

But he took a shaking breath through his constricted throat, and he felt his hazy vision go black, swallowed up in a thick darkness. 

Hongjoong was being threatened and assaulted by his best friends… and he passed out with a knife pressed to his throat. 

_ Seonghwa…  _ pressing a knife to his throat. 

He fell unconscious and knew that while the darkness surrounded him, he would likely die. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong woke up… warm. 

Soft? 

His mind woke up, taking in his surroundings in an instant, cataloging it all. 

He was laying down. Something soft beneath him- a bed? He was warm- wrapped up in something. There was light coming from somewhere- there should be no light in his room. 

And there was a body next to his- their quiet breathing loud in his ears the practically twitched in sensitivity. 

There was someone in his room. In his bed. 

Hongjoong couldn’t think of how anyone would wind up in his bed, but it didn’t really matter. 

His eyes creaked open, aching in the practically blinding light- 

How was there light in his room, if there were no windows? He didn’t have time to contemplate his surrounds, his hand slowly creeping down to his side for his knife. 

His fingers wrapped around the worn handle. Was this that unsettling feeling he had been experiencing? 

Didn’t matter. Kill the intruder, and then worry about what was happening. 

Hongjoong shifted minutely, getting in position to strike- 

The body beside him shifted, a low groan sounding from them. 

And even producing a sound Hongjoong had never heard, he recognized that voice. 

“Hongjoong?” the familiar voice mumbled into the pillow. “You awake finally?” 

There was something tired and amused in the voice- 

Emotions that Hongjoong had never heard on Seonghwa’s tongue. 

“Hongjoong?” The voice came as if from under the blankets. 

The way his name sat on his tongue… Hongjoong stiffened, his stomach curling in warning. 

That was not Seonghwa. 

The body beside him finally lifted onto their elbows- hair ruffled and cheeks pink from sleep- 

Their eyes pulled down. “What are you wearing?” he rasped. 

Hongjoong lunged, the entire sight so wrong, it must be some sort of trick. 

Seonghwa… did not look like that. 

The imposter cried out as Hongjoong’s body collided with his- one hand latching around his throat like a viper- 

Shock changed to fear as he jerked his knife from its sheath- 

“ _ Hongjoong! _ ” he croaked from beneath his hand crushing his throat. 

This was not Seonghwa, of that Hongjoong was sure as he held the knife to his throat. “Who the hell are you?” he snapped. “What the hell are you-” 

A door burst open. “Can you guys keep your fucking down- What the fuck are you doing!” 

Hongjoong turned- risking removing his eyes from this imposter’s pathetically struggling form- 

Hands grabbed Hongjoong’s arms and yanked- not strong enough to completely remove him, but enough to knock him off balance. 

“Mingi- get in here!” the person grabbing him called out the open door. “Hongjoong- what the fuck-”

His arm in the stranger’s grasp was the one holding his knife, and he flipped it single handedly, aiming the blade towards- 

Yunho’s face stared down at him in horror. 

Not Yunho. His eyes were all wrong- the weakness in his grip was horrendous compared to their powerhouse- 

“What do you-  _ Get off of him _ !” Mingi’s voice yelled- but not his voice- too foreign.

Hongjoong shoved the flipped knife towards Yunho’s chest, teeth grinding together as his other hand squeezed Seonghwa tighter- 

How many of them were there?

Mingi’s grip joined Yunho’s- tearing Hongjoong’s hand off of the imposter’s neck. 

“Is that a fucking knife? Is that real?” Mingi demanded as they both dragged Hongjoong off of Seonghwa who rolled over, hacking and choking into the blankets- 

Hongjoong brought a knee up, slamming it into Mingi’s side, flipping his knife again- 

“What’s going on-  _ Hongjoong! _ ” Yet another voice yelled in shock. 

A foot suddenly kicked at his hand- sending the knife out of Hongjoong’s loosened grip and clattering to the ground. 

He cursed internally, pulling against the hands holding him- 

“San, what the fuck?” Yunho demanded. 

“Grab his legs!” Mingi ordered as Hongjoong thrashed, weaponless, but not helpless- 

“Guys!” San called desperately, his entire torso laying over Hongjoong’s legs as they shoved him onto the ground- Yunho and Mingi pinning his arms. 

So much weaker than they should be. Even so, Hongjoong may be strong, but even three weaklings were hard to struggle against. 

“What the fuck is he wearing?” San demanded. 

“What’s all the yelling- What the fuck?” 

How many of them were there? Hongjoong twisted his torso- managing to dislodge one leg from San’s haphazard hold- 

His boot collided with San’s jaw, sending him back with a cry, hands clutching his jaw- 

“Hongjoong!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Wooyoung- his legs!” 

A denser weight landed on Hongjoong’s wildly kicking legs- Wooyoung’s own legs landing on top of his painfully to aid in holding them down. 

“Is that a fucking knife?”

“He attacked Seonghwa!” Yunho snapped. “Should we call someone?”

“Hongjoong- what the hell is wrong with you?” Wooyoung snapped, glancing with worried eyes at San’s jaw that was already beginning to bruise. “What- What’s going on?” 

So many familiar faces. 

And all of them wrong. 

Where was his real team? What happened to them? Was this supposed to be some sort of plot from Capital? 

“Hongjoong.” 

In all the shouting, the quiet call stood out, Hongjoong’s glaring, cursing eyes snapping upwards. 

Seonghwa leaned over the edge of the bed, one hand touching his throat gingerly and stricken eyes staring down on Hongjoong. 

Something… fearful in them. 

It made Hongjoong’s stomach curl- Seonghwa did not feel fear. 

None of them felt fear- none of them felt this panic and confusion that had grasped this group of  _ fools-  _

“Is this some sort of split personality?” San whispered in horror. 

“Nobody fucking cares that you took a Psych 101 right now!” Wooyoung snapped. 

“I’m serious- What the fuck is happening?” San demanded. 

“What the hell are you wearing?” Mingi demanded, eyes drawing over Hongjoong’s coat and suit. “This- What the fuck is up with your  _ hair? _ ”

They acted as if they knew him. As if Hongjoong was the one among them who had changed. 

“Is this some sort of plot by Capital?” Hongjoong finally snarled, making several of them flinch as he yanked at their holds. “It’s a  _ pathetic  _ attempt, you mindless idiots,” he snapped. “If you’re going to attempt a trick, at least understand the people you’re trying to replace!” 

“Replace?” Seonghwa questioned quietly. “Capital?”

“What trick?” Wooyoung demanded, brows furrowed. “Hongjoong- are you having some sort of mental break?”

“I don’t think finals make you fucking try and kill your boyfriend!” Yunho said sharply. “Someone get Yeosang- Call the police or something-” 

“We’re not calling the cops on hyung!” San burst, eyes widening in horror. 

“He’s clearly not himself!” Yunho fought. “He just tried to  _ kill  _ Seonghwa- He had a fucking  _ knife,  _ he’s not safe to be around right now!”

Yes, at least they understood that Hongjoong was a threat to him. 

“Yeosang and Jongho are in class,” San said, fists clenching. “We can’t call the police! What if it goes on his record or something?”

“Does that really fucking matter?” Mingi demanded. 

“He’ll get kicked out of the art program!” San fought. “We can’t let that happen-” 

“Did you miss the part where he tried to  _ kill Seonghwa? _ ”

“Hongjoong.” 

Once more, Seonghwa’s voice broke through the others- a different level of familiar, despite the horrible emotions they were shoving into his tone. 

Hongjoong glared at him- seeing his second in command so fucking pathetic- it made him want to spit in his face. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice low and calm. “Talk to us- we can work through this… I don’t know if you even understand what’s happening to yourself, but… but you have to trust us. Just talk to us.” 

Hongjoong did spit in his face at that. 

Trust them. 

These worthless actors- 

How did they have their faces? Their voices? What new hell was the Capital learning to create?

The others around him erupted into cries of outrage as Seonghwa flinched at the saliva striking his cheek. 

“Do you dogs really underestimate us so much?” he spat. “I’ll hang your fucking crew from the burning trees of the Capital!” 

“What the  _ hell  _ are you talking about?” Wooyoung snapped. “You’re talking nonsense, hyung-” 

He jerked his leg, almost freeing it from Wooyoung’s distracted hold before the other caught it, shoving it down pointedly. 

“We have to call someone,” Yunho snapped. 

“Let’s calm him down first,” Seonghwa said firmly, confusion and hurt mingling in his eyes. 

God, the fucking  _ pathetic  _ expressions on his face. Hongjoong’s lips curled in hatred. 

“Calm him down  _ how _ ?” Mingi demanded. “He had a fucking knife!” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, one foot coming down from the bed, careful eyes staring at him gently. “Talk to us. Where do you think you are? What do you think we are to you? We aren’t a threat.” 

Weren’t a threat? He wanted to laugh. 

His eyes darted away from Seonghwa when San suddenly lunged- 

He didn’t go for Hongjoong. Instead, his hands wrapped around the knife that had fallen from his grip. 

And Hongjoong hesitated for moment- eyes sharpening warily. He was now pinned, weaponless, while this imposer held his knife. 

“San!” Seonghwa yelled, eyes widening in horror. 

“Talk!” San snapped, voice shaking as fear began to take over his eyes. The knife shook as he pointed it at Hongjoong. “I- I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but you need to start explaining!” 

Hongjoong’s eyes traced from the knife to San’s shaking lips and wide eyes. 

Not only were they fools, they were also completely useless. 

“You won’t hurt me with that,” Hongjoong sneered. “You’re fucking weak and afraid.” 

“ _ Try me _ ,” San pressed, voice trembling. “You tried to kill our friend- I defend my friends, even from each other! I broke someone’s fucking arm for stepping on one of your sketchbooks.” 

“San, you did that on accident,” Wooyoung hissed, giving him a wary glare. 

“This one won’t be!” San snapped, lowering the knife slightly. “Now, start explaining! Why did you do that?”

“Where do you think you are?” Seonghwa said firmly, lips pressing in a firm line as he held a warning hand out to San to hold on, and still all that fucking pity shining in his eyes. 

_ Disgusting.  _

San jerked the knife, and no matter how obvious it was that he wouldn’t harm Hongjoong with the knife, he’d be foolish to think it impossible for San to act in passion. 

He had zero control in this situation. 

“A hundred flits south of Capital,” Hongjoong spat, eyes focused on the knife that shook in San’s grip. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if San accidentally dropped it on Hongjoong. 

“None of those words made sense,” Yunho said, as if it would be news to Hongjoong. “Did he hit his fucking head?”

“Where did you get those clothes?” Seonghwa demanded, frowning and scanning Hongjoong. “Those have never been in our closet.” 

Ours… 

Hongjoong didn’t know why the fuck it was important that these imposters act clueless, but- 

As he struggled, his head fell back to scan the room fully- 

His eyes landed on a window set into the wall. 

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. 

Through the clear glass, he saw green and blue. 

Green leaves… and blue skies-

The edge of a white cloud peeked through the leaves- 

“What is that?” he demanded, not taking his eyes off of it. “Some sort of hologram?” 

Mingi followed his gaze. “The window? What- do you not remember windows in whatever fucked up world you’re visiting?” 

Hongjoong glared at him, making the other almost jerk away, though his grip remained tight on Hongjoong’s struggling limbs. 

“Answer my questions before I break my own arm, and then break yours,” he growled. 

“What about the window?” Seonghwa asked, patient and calm. 

He wanted to rip his tongue out. 

“What about it looks like a hologram?”

“That fact that it’s not a burning inferno of a hell?” Hongjoong snarled, fists clenching. 

“Why would it be burning?” Seonghwa questioned, brow pulling down. 

“Is it part of some programming in you to be ignorant?” Hongjoong demanded through his teeth. “When  _ isn’t  _ the world burning?”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, looking ready to question something more, but he closed it quickly, sliding off of the bed and kneeling beside Hongjoong. 

The audacity- 

“It’s not a hologram,” Seonghwa said, as if humoring him. “Nothing is burning, Hongjoong. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but it’s not real. You’re safe- in the frat house, with your friends…”

Frat house. Hongjoong didn’t know what that fucking word even meant. 

“You’re just off campus at Seoul University,” Seonghwa continued. “In downtown Seoul-” 

“ _ Seoul _ ?” Hongjoong spat. “Seoul was destroyed nearly centuries ago- Is the Capital trying to go back to its roots or something equally ridiculous?”

“Seoul isn’t destroyed,” Wooyoung said firmly, looking confused. “It’s not the apocalypse or anything, hyung. It’s just Wednesday.” 

“Not the apocalypse,” Hongjoong scoffed. 

“Okay, it’s officially too far,” Yunho said firmly. “San, call the police- tell them he’s having a psychic episode or whatever the fuck they called it in Psych 101.” 

“No!” San snapped. “They’ll kick him out of the fucking program!”

“He clearly needs help!” Yunho yelled back. “You think this is fucking normal?” 

“We can- We can work something out!” San fought weakly, the knife dropping into his lap. “We just need to calm down-” 

“Prove it,” Hongjoong broke in with a snarl. 

“Prove what?” Yunho demanded. 

“Prove that it’s real,” he snapped. “The green outside- prove that’s not a hologram.”

There was nowhere left in the world that was green. 

If they proved that it wasn’t a hologram… Hongjoong actually didn’t know what he would do. 

Because if it wasn’t a hologram… what else was real? What were these men who looked identical to his team? 

Where the hell had he wound up? And where the hell was his real team? 

“We’re not taking you anywhere- bringing you outside is crazy!” Mingi fought. 

“Let’s show him,” Seonghwa said quietly, standing. 

“Hyung!” Wooyoung yelled- 

Oh, the real Seonghwa would have likely struck him for such a fucking display. This one… just shook his head. 

“He’s freaking out- humor him for now. We have to calm him down.” 

“How the hell are we getting him outside?” Yunho demanded. 

“Keep holding his arms,” Seonghwa said firmly. 

“He’ll wiggle free!” 

“Wait,” San said, standing and running out of the room. Hongjoong had stopped struggling… for now. 

Now, his heart merely beat out a horribly loud rhythm as he tried to keep his eyes on all of them at once. 

“What is this?” Seonghwa asked while San was gone, pointing to his clothing. “It looks like a uniform.” 

Hongjoong scoffed, lips curling. “I’m sure the Capital has us marked down to our honor badges- you know what this is.” 

“I don’t,” Seonghwa said firmly. “I’ve never seen this before- is it a uniform?”

His voice was gentle enough to grate on his ears. 

“The only thing it could stand as uniform for is the amateurs who brought a fucking nation to its knees,” Hongjoong spat. “Report that back to whoever sent you.” 

“Here!” San arrived back with three items in his hand. 

A chord, a roll of tape, and a belt. 

Yunho and Mingi both moved, sitting Hongjoong up and forcing his arms back- 

At this, Hongjoong struggled, thrashing in their grip- 

“Don’t hurt him,” Seonghwa said quickly, a hand reaching towards Hongjoong- 

Hongjoong jerked away from the touch, glaring at Seonghwa, daring him to touch him as he continued to thrash- 

Oh, such a look of hurt in the fake’s eyes, his hand withdrawing quickly. 

Hongjoong felt tape being wrapped around his wrists that were held behind his back. 

“I never thought you’d actually use those skills you learned in taekwondo,” Wooyoung muttered where he held Hongjoong’s kicking feet. 

As weak as they were, and as raging as Hongjoong’s blood was- it was very clearly five against one, and even if he did manage to break free, the chances of making it very far were slim. 

He felt the thick leather of a belt added to his wrists, and then the thin wrap of a wire joining as well- tight, but not unbearable. 

“Did you really steal Jongho’s phone charger?” Wooyoung muttered. 

“Would you rather I grabbed yours?” San hissed, tugging on the restraints. “Okay,” he sighed. “We should be okay.” 

Hongjoong glared bitterly as he was pulled to his feet- both Mingi and Yunho still keeping hands on his bound arms, nearly lifting him off his feet. 

“This is stupid,” Mingi muttered as Hongjoong took a jerking step in the direction they urged him in. “We shouldn’t be indulging him- he’s clearly fucking sick.” 

_ Hongjoong  _ was the one who was sick? 

They were the ones in a frenzy. 

“Let’s just… hurry,” Seonghwa said quietly, eyes not meeting Hongjoong’s. “I don’t like this- but we have to try.” 

Hongjoong’s boots made dull thuds against the wooden floors that were smooth and clean as he was marched from the bedroom. 

The hall was short- leading down into a kitchen. 

This place was… like nothing Hongjoong had ever seen. Bright lights hanging from the ceiling that weren’t flickering. Their walls were smooth and white. The ceilings were lower, and the floors were nearly spotless. 

And when he reached a door with a window in the middle of it… Hongjoong stiffened under their touch. 

It had to be hologram. The moment they opened that door, the visual illusion would be broken, and he would feel the heat blistering his skin. 

He almost cursed himself for not wearing his mask before all this insanity began. 

Maybe that was their plan… shoving him outside without any sort of protection and leaving him there. 

But they also wore no protection… not even their clothing. 

San stepped forward, grabbing the doorknob firmly and twisting, pulling the door open- 

Hongjoong held his breath. 

There was no familiar, dangerous blast of heat that blistered your skin. There was no scent of smoke and burning fumes. There was no sight of flames and ash that floating through the air like the long-gone snow. 

When San pulled the door open, there was a gentle breeze that brushed against Hongjoong’s face- like a flower dragged across skin. 

Hongjoong sucked in a breath without thinking. It didn’t burn his lungs- he smelled… something he had never smelled before. 

Like dirt, but cleaner. The only thing he could liken it to was their clothing after it had been washed- crisp and clean. 

There was more green. More blue. 

An entire sky full of it- stretching as far as he could see, dotted with white-  _ white  _ clouds- that were fluffy and wispy… 

An entire patch of green in the lawn, dotted with white and yellow flowers no bigger than his fingernail. 

Along the road- trees grew tall and proud- their wiry branches stretching towards the sky and blooming in fistfuls of green… 

“Why are you acting like you’ve never seen this before?” Seonghwa asked, frowning in quiet concern. 

Hongjoong’s calculating eyes scanned the area, trying to figure out how they could have made a hologram physical too- 

How was he feeling a gentle breeze? How could he smell that scent of fresh earth? 

“It’s just outside,” Wooyoung said, frowning. “No… hologram or whatever. See?”

Wooyoung marched further out the door, bending down and ripping out a handful of grass, holding it out to Hongjoong. 

His eyes widened. 

No hologram would do that. 

Wooyoung tossed the grass into the air, letting it flutter to the ground. 

“How…” Hongjoong calculations turned into numb shock as he stared at a car that drove passed the house they stood before. “How- Capital has never been able to figure out how to regrow the earth. What did-” 

How was this possible? 

“What?” Seonghwa prompted gently, frowning at him in such gentle concern, as if he wanted Hongjoong to lay all his worries on him. 

As if this fake would ever be strong enough to carry them. 

“Regrow earth?” San demanded. “What does that mean?”

“The earth is burning,” Hongjoong hissed, unable to tear his eyes away from the blue so vibrant it almost hurt to look at. “Why is the earth not burning?”

“The earth isn’t burning, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said firmly. “I don’t know what world you think you’re living in… but this is the real one. And it’s not on fire- it’s just… continuing on, see?” He gestured, like Hongjoong could miss it. 

“My world is  _ burning _ ,” Hongjoong repeated, stronger and harsher. 

If he knew nothing else, he knew that: his world was burning It had always been burning. The reason they existed was because it was burning. 

But this… this was not burning. None of it was burning. 

And so, the only conclusion that Hongjoong’s mind could come to in such a shock… was that he was not in  _ his  _ world. 

Which only begged the question: then, where was he? 

Where were the others? 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong woke up to his head pounding. 

Groaning, he ducked his head down, burrowing beneath blankets and pillow- 

Blankets? Pillow?

He froze, taking a moment. He was laying down, curled up in a bed. 

He almost cried with relief, his body shaking beneath the blankets. 

Hongjoong had never had a nightmare so real… so utterly terrifying… He honestly didn’t know if he would be able to face the others for a while… 

It seemed so… so real. 

The fear, the pain, the horror… all if it seemed so vivid and terrifying. 

Hongjoong sat up, scrubbing at his scratchy eyes and ready to go find Seonghwa, to curl up and not leave his bed for a week after he cried about this a bit more because it had been  _ terrifying.  _

_ Twisted _ , horrible versions of the people he loved. 

Hongjoong lowered his arm. 

A man stared back at him. 

Hongjoong gasped, scrambling back in the bed, his back hitting a headboard roughly, making a loud sound against the wall as his heart thudded. 

On the other side of the dim room, Hongjoong saw a figure sitting in a chair, staring at him- dressed in a crisp black suit and hidden behind a thick mask that only showed his eyes. 

Eyes that stared with dark, intense apathy. 

Hongjoong’s hands began to shake. “No,” he whispered, looking around- 

This was not his bed. It was regal, carved with dark wooden posts and a thick blanket that was far too thick and heavy to be his. 

And it wasn’t until now, that Hongjoong realized it didn’t smell like his bed at all. It smelled vaguely of smoke and dirt- but not…  _ dirty.  _

It wasn’t a dream. 

Hongjoong was still living his nightmare. 

“What do you want?” he rasped, his voice shot, his knees drawn close to keep him as far from the figure as possible. 

The figure neither moved nor reacted in anyway, as if he was nothing more than a statue. 

Maybe… Maybe he was a statue? 

Swallowing thickly, Hongjoong shifted towards towards the door that he caught a glance of-

He didn’t blink, but he still didn’t see the figure move. 

Just a flash of silver and a blade catching the shoulder of Hongjoong’s shirt- tearing through it and pinning him to the headboard with the knife embedded in the wood. 

Hongjoong cried out, flinching away, but it held fast, his eyes staring fearful at the man who still didn’t seem to move. 

His heart was in his throat as he tried to figure out what to do. 

“Is this… some sort of kidnapping thing?” he demanded. “What- do you dress up like the people close to someone?” he snapped weakly, voice shaking almost as bad as his hands. 

How did they have their faces? Their voices? How did they seem exact in every way… but their eyes… their tone… 

Their cold anger… 

“Say something!” Hongjoong burst, lips shaking. “I- I don’t know what the fuck you people want, but I don’t-” 

The world burning. The endless hallways. The dark masks. 

What the hell did it all mean? Why build something so elaborate? 

The door of the room opened swiftly, making Hongjoong jump and flinch away- 

Seonghwa entered- seeming ten feet tall with his shoulders squared and his back as rigid as a board. 

Hongjoong had never-  _ ever _ in his life- ever feared Seonghwa. He had never looked at the other boy and ever felt anything but bubbling fondness and warmth. 

So it felt like a piercing blade, the way his stomach shriveled at the sight of him. 

He wasn’t dressed in those dark pants and grey shirt anymore- he was dressed identical to the figure sitting in the room with him. Identical to San. 

A suit… decorated in silver chains and badges that almost looked military lined up neatly on their chests. A brimmed hat sat on the silent figure’s head, but not Seonghwa’s. 

Cold eyes cast over Hongjoong, examining him like he was nothing more than a piece of jewelry waiting to be bought. Hongjoong shrank away from the eyes, distrustful and hollow. 

Part of him said to stop fighting. Just let them do what they want. He was already so tired… so fucking scared… 

Part of him couldn’t. Because that was Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s face, his voice, his body- but not his eyes. Not his kindness, his warmth, his fondness- 

So who  _ was  _ he?

“Thank you, Yeosang, I’ll take it from here,” Seongwha said- yet another order wrapped in a statement. 

_ Yeosang.  _

The figure stood silently, nodding stiffly. And as he brought himself further into the light, Hongjoong could see very clearly the little pink smudge by his eyes that he used to find so cute and endearing. 

Yeosang… Yeosang was calm and level headed and cute and liked eating sweet bread and going skating- 

Was he supposed to believe that this statue made of ice and indifference was his friend? 

But Yeosang didn’t even look at Hongjoong, passing by Seonghwa in swift, precise steps as he exited. 

“Have Wooyoung ready the others,” Seonghwa said before Yeosang was completely out of the room. “We aren’t putting off this raid for a bump.” 

Yeosang froze, one hand on the door. 

Empty, hollow eyes gazed at Hongjoong cowering on the bed. Something in them darkened. “I think we can call this more than a bump,” he said- voice as cold as his eyes, but it was just a quiet as his Yeosang’s voice.

There was nothing cute or excited about it, though. 

Yeosang left without another word, the door shutting silently behind him. Hongjoong stared, still trying to figure out how-  _ how _ was that his Yeosang- 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Seonghwa said, voice too loud, too threatening as he stepped closer to Hongjoong slowly. “You’re going to tell me who you are and what you’re doing here… and if you lie to me, I’m going to cut your tongue out with that knife that is so very close to your shoulder.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened as he tried not to throw up. 

Everything seemed almost like a military operation- from their stances to their crisp voices to their uniforms- 

Was Hongjoong part of some fucked up Area 51 bullshit? 

“That starts now,” Seonghwa stated sharply, eyes like blades. “Who are you?”

Hongjoong’s tongue suddenly felt heavy in his mouth. “I told you- my name is Hongjoong.” 

“That’s wrong,” Seonghwa snapped. “You have his face, you have his voice- but you aren’t him. So I’ll give you one more chance before I use that knife on your tongue.” 

“I’m telling the truth!” Hongjoong yelled, though his voice broke with fear. “Why would I lie? I don’t know how else to say it- my name is  _ Hongjoong!  _ If anything, you should be telling me why you’re some  _ psychopath  _ wearing my boyfriend’s face!” 

Something flickered in Seonghwa’s eyes- quick and dangerous, and Hongjoong almost thought his tongue was already cut out. 

But Seongwha didn’t strike. He stared at Hongjoong with lips curled in anger and something dark in his eyes. 

“Boyfriend,” he repeated, like the word some acid on his tongue. 

Hongjoong didn’t know what he wanted him to say, so he just stared on and prayed he didn’t die. 

“Explain,” Seonghwa snapped, looking Hongjoong up and down. 

“Explain what?” Hongjoong demanded weakly. 

“What you mean by that,” he spat, clearly losing patience. 

“How do I explain that?” Hongjoong asked, heart shriveling. “We met in freshman year at college, I tripped, my wet painting landed on you- We were friends, and then we were dating.” 

Seonghwa only looked more annoyed the longer Hongjoong spoke. “College,” he repeated back, that same tone as he had said ‘boyfriend.’ 

“College,” Hongjoong replied sharply. “ _ School, _ ” He clarified, like he was speaking to a child. 

“School,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath, finally looking away from Hongjoong long enough- his eyes gazing at the floor as if it might have the answers. 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly. “What do you want with me?” he asked quietly. 

Seonghwa looked up, making Hongjoong flinch. “ _ Want _ with you?” he demanded. “What in hell’s name would make you think we  _ wanted  _ you?”

“You kidnapped me!” Hongjoong shouted pathetically. “I don’t know where the hell I am or who you really are- because you  _ aren’t  _ Seonghwa- but I know that I was at home, and  _ now  _ I’m not!” 

Hongjoong could almost see Seonghwa’s mind churning a mile a minute, expression almost haunted, as if he was trying not to let himself think about something. 

“Why would I not be Seonghwa?” he demanded darkly. 

“Seonghwa never looked at me like that,” Hongjoong snapped, part of his anger flaring up at the thought of this person acting so cruelly while wearing someone so kind’s face. “Seonghwa never hurt me or left bruises on my fucking body.” 

He could feel the fingerprints on his arm from the rough treatment. 

“And where do you think you are?” Seonghwa asked sharply. “Seoul?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” he said in reply, not sure how many circles they would go in. 

He didn’t know why this person was acting as confused as Hongjoong was. 

“We didn’t take you,” Seonghwa spat. “You appeared here.” 

“I didn’t do  _ shit _ !” Hongjoong fought. “I went to sleep, and when I woke up, I was in a pitch black room in this fucking freak show!” 

“We didn’t ask for you to be here,” Seonghwa said, voice raising threateningly as his eyes darkened. “You appeared- wearing the face and voice of our leader, but you are  _ not  _ that man!” 

Hongjoong was ready to shout back something about not understanding, but he stopped. 

Seonghwa thought that Hongjoong was someone else. Someone who was Hongjoong… but not. 

Hongjoong thought Seonghwa was someone else. Someone who was Seonghwa… but not. 

Hongjoong fell asleep at home and woke up here. 

Seonghwa’s person was here, and now they were gone. 

Both of them were missing someone- both of them were wearing faces that didn’t match what they should be. 

But what the hell did that  _ mean? _

“I don’t…. I don’t know what happened to…  _ whoever  _ you think I should be,” Hongjoong said shakily. “But I know that you’re wearing the face of someone I know-  _ all of you  _ are- but none of you are those people. I don’t know how I got here, but I didn’t  _ choose  _ to be here.” 

Seonghwa glared, cold eyes appraising Hongjoong like livestock- gauging his honesty and value. 

“You claim you are Hongjoong.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you know the people here- all of them?” 

Hongjoongs lips pressed together. “I’ve known the ones I’ve seen. I… assume there are others?” 

“Jongho, Mingi, Yunho, Wooyoung.” 

“Yes,” Hongjoong answered quietly. “They’re my friends. Everyone here was.”

“But they’re different,” Seonghwa prompted shortly. 

“Yes.” 

“In the same way we find you different?”

“You look and sound like them,” Hongjoong agreed. “That’s where the similarities stop.” 

So… Seonghwa was just as confused? They didn’t… bring him here? 

Then how the hell was he here? 

“You slept and woke up here?” Seonghwa demanded. 

“Are you just going to repeat back everything I’ve already said, in a question?” Hongjoong demanded, hands shaking as he clutched them together to stop them. 

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened. “Watch your tongue before you lose it,” He said lowly. “You’re awfully bold for a prisoner at our mercy.” 

“Am I a prisoner?” Hongjoong asked, swallowing. 

“For the purpose of this conversation, yes.” 

Hongjoong glanced at his hands that rest in his lap and his legs curled against him. “If I’m a prisoner, why aren’t I tied up?”

Seonghwa stared at him darkly before he was moving forward swiftly- like a snake shooting over the dirt- 

Hongjoong flinched back with a cry as his hand grabbed the knife beside him, pulling it out to stab back- 

No blade pierced him, and when Hongjoong managed to open his eyes, Seonghwa simply stood beside the bed with the knife in his hand- not even raised. 

His eyes shone- not with darkness, but disgust as he clenched the hilt. 

“You aren’t a threat to us,” he muttered darkly, shoving the blade into a sheath at his side. “You’re a coward at best and an invalid at worse.” 

Despite the fact that Hongjoong should give this man no opinion over himself… the words stung. 

“You’re  _ weak,”  _ Seonghwa spat, lips curling as he gazed at Hongjoong with growing anger. “And the fact that someone so pathetic wears the same face as the man  _ we  _ all chose to follow-” 

For a moment, Hongjoong truly believed Seonghwa would stab him in a fit of rage. 

“ _ Sickening _ ,” he hissed, turning on his heel and striding from the room- the door slamming shut behind him. 

Hongjoong heard a lock audibly click. 

He didn’t even try to stand and force the door open. He simply stared at it, the draft of the room making him shiver. 

Everything hurt. 

He didn’t know why he was here- and these people obviously didn’t have the answers either. 

So, if neither of them knew what had happened… how was he here? Was there some third party somewhere? 

Maybe Hongjoong had died and this was some other life of his? 

Whatever it was… Hongjoong was alone now, but he felt no safer. He was exhausted, but too scared to close his eyes. 

He rested his chin on his knees, staring at the door and waiting with bated breath for it to open- his heart winding up like a spring ready to pounce. 

He was cold and alone... and afraid… and missing his friends more than he had ever thought possible. 

He wanted them back. The real ones. 

~~~~~~~

“Another… world?”

Hongjong nodded. It was the only thing that made sense. (Even though nothing was making sense.) 

Yunho stared in shock. “That’s it,” He said, standing. “I’m calling the cops- this is gone way too fucking far-” 

Seonghwa snatched Yunho’s wrist as he stared intently at Hongjoong, expression reserved and careful. “What other world do you think you came from?” he asked- almost mocking. 

Not mocking, he supposed. Indulging. 

Hongjoong’s lips curled angrily. 

All of them were  _ wrong _ . 

Including this pathetic version of Yeosang was that sitting as far away as possible while still being in the room, shoved in the corner, staring at Hongjoong with wide eyes that were terrified. 

This sorry excuse for Jongho- practically cowering behind Mingi, staring out at Hongjoong like he was some monster under his bed he hadn’t thought was real, both of them silent and horrified after walking back from “class.” 

So many emotions… 

“A different one,” Hongjoong said flatly. 

“There aren’t different worlds,” Yunho said, exasperated, rolling his eyes. 

All of them pathetic. 

Their ridiculous expressions aside, Hongjoong’s mind raced through every book in his study, trying to think. Trying to connect and strategize. 

Normally, Seonghwa’s presence was enough to sharpen Hongjoong’s mind into a deadly weapon- but this was not that Seonghwa.  _ This  _ Seonghwa did nothing but cloud Hongjoong mind with a rage that he hadn’t felt before. 

Fifth shelf. Red book, brown spine.  _ The Journals of Others and Us.  _

“There is a book,” Hongjoong said darkly, completely still within the chair they sat him in inside their little kitchen that was too white and bright to be comfortable. “Written by a man decades ago- it describes the possibilities of other worlds that aren’t destroyed.”

“Like ours?” Seonghwa asked seriously. 

“Are you really buying this?” Mingi demanded, glaring at Seonghwa. “He needs help, not indulgence!” 

But Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa. This other Seonghwa… a wrong Seonghwa. 

His eyes were all wrong- too gentle and caring. But Hongjoong narrowed his eyes, looking deeper at the light brown that stared at him intently- nearly covered by the uncharacteristically dark hair in his eyes. 

And it was nothing  _ close  _ to the real thing. But… perhaps, maybe… he could see something there. 

A spark… a glint… a flash… Something that spoke of determination… 

Of trust. 

And those were two things he had shared with his Seonghwa in spades. It made Hongjoong want to recoil- not willing to slip into a trap of compliance. 

But he kept staring, waiting for this pathetic Seonghwa to break. 

But he kept his eyes on Hongjoong- not fiery with confidence and crisp orders. But gentle and prodding… with something more genuine beneath them. 

“I suppose,” Hongjoong answered stiffly. “His purpose of researching them was to dominate them- to colonize after our world was destroyed.” 

“What destroyed  _ ‘your world _ ,’” Yunho asked, clearly mocking, fingers making quotes in the air. 

“A number of things we don't have time to have a history lesson on,” Hongjoong snapped. “The point is, he mentions within it that each world would have a version of ourselves. Copies.” 

“Alternate universes,” Wooyoung said, waving a hand like they knew this and wanted Hongjoong to get to the point. 

Hongjoong glared. 

Wooyoung’s confusion grew. “Are you trying to convince us that you came here from an alternate universe?” 

“I didn’t come, I was taken,” Hongjoong snapped sharply. “I woke up with you poor excuses of people I lead-” 

“What do you lead?” San asked, leaning against a wall. “You know us in your universe?” 

Hongjoong’s lips curled, that disgust rising in the back of his throat as he gazes around them- everything from fear to curiosity to exasperation to apprehension. Everything his team would never and should never be. 

“You have the faces of the people on my team,” Hongjoong snarled. “But you aren’t them. The people I lead are trustworthy and unrelenting- not the cowards that you are!”

“ _ Cowar-  _ You held a knife to Seonghwa!” San fought, glaring. 

“The real Seonghwa would have never been so stupid as be unaware like that!” Hongjoong yelled. “My team would have never needed five people to restrain one man! We stormed the Capital together- they wouldn’t shake while holding nothing but a common knife in their hands!” 

Yunho stared in blatant disbelief. 

“You don’t lead a military operation- you lead a fucking frat house, Hongjoong!” he snapped. “Guys, I’m serious,” he said, glaring at them. “I’m calling someone-” 

“Don’t,” Seonghwa said firmly, returning with a sharp look. “Don’t- just- just give us a minute.” 

“Why are you acting like you believe him?” Yunho demanded. “Hyung, he’s clearly fucked up in the head!” 

“Yunho, we know it’s not just him having a mental breakdown,” Seonghwa fought- his voice almost sharpening into something familiar, but it missed and remained strongly scolding. “Look at what he’s wearing! Look at his hair- there’s no way Hongjoong grew his hair out like this in a night.” 

It was the first half-intelligent thing Hongjoong had heard from these people. The tips of Hongjoong’s hair barely brushed his shoulder- cropped short to lay beneath his hat and longer in the back in an effort to aid against the flames they walked through. 

“So he grabbed something from the drama department- a wig and some clothes- this is insane, Seonghwa!” 

Seonghwa’s lips were pressed together, eyes fearful, even as they tried to appear calculating. 

Hongjoong almost warned him not to hurt himself thinking so hard, a bitter anger in his throat. 

It was sickening to see such a mockery of such a precious person. 

“I don’t think it’s a wig,” Seonghwa muttered, pushing off the counter he had leaned against, striding over to Hongjoong, a hand reaching out- 

Hongjoong jerked away from the touch, practically snarling like a rabid dog- fully willing to bite his finger off if he came closer. 

Seonghwa jerked his hand away- and Hongjoong watched his expression fall into something softer. Gentler. 

As if Hongjoong would need  _ comfort. _

Hongjoong had received comfort and support from Seonghwa many a time, but never so sickeningly genuine or soft. 

As if Hongjoong was breakable, and not a person with responsibilities he did not have the luxury to shirk. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Seonghwa coaxed, like calming a wild animal. 

“As if you could,” Hongjoong spat. 

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Seonghwa assured him- too fucking  _ gentle.  _

Seonghwa’s hand reached for Hongjoong’s head, and he flinched away once more, growling in the back of his throat, but Seonghwa followed the movement- 

Careful fingers brushed through Hongjoong’s hair- from the tips of his bangs, running backwards gently- as if he was trying not to tug him around- 

And then the hand was gone, Seongwha stepped back quickly. “That’s not a wig,” he said firmly. “Something… something weird is happening.” 

“Hyung-” 

“What’s your excuse, Yunho?” Seonghwa demanded, throwing his hands up. “He’s got his face- but his hair is real, his clothes are real- You think this is normal?”

“No! Which is why we have to call the police-” 

“Do you actually believe him?” Wooyoung asked- not accusing, but curious. 

Seonghwa huffed, running an agitated hand through his hair, eyes flickering around frantically, as if searching for an answer. So pathetica and lost. Losing his head to the emotions he was letting run wild. 

“I don’t know,” He admitted, voice weak. “I don’t believe all this talk of other worlds and burning- But- But we know that  _ something  _ weird is happening here. And we can’t- can't take any steps that are going to ruin Hongjoong’s life. Can we just- just  _ wait  _ a minute?” he pleaded. 

“You think Hongjoong is going to feel any better knowing that he tried to kill you, but we didn’t do anything because we didn't want him kicked out of the program?” Mingi asked seriously. 

“I don’t know!” Seonghwa snapped, the anxiety dying into something quieter. “I don’t know… But I don’t want to risk anything until we can figure something out.” 

“He had a knife!” 

“Then  _ leave,  _ if you don’t feel safe,” Seonghwa spat, voice finally reaching a level of harsh that was almost familiar. 

It died immediately though as Seonghwa’s expression turned stricken at Yunho’s shocked expression. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, voice shaking. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, just- We can’t… We can’t do anything yet,” he begged. “I just… I don’t want him hurt. I just want… want to keep him safe, I don’t know why- He won’t be safe if we call the police.” 

“Hyung, are you sure  _ you’re  _ not reaching a psychic break?” San asked, fearful concern in his eyes. 

“I woke up this morning to Hongjoong trying to kill me, so  _ probably _ ,” he said- veering towards harsh, but missing once more. He just sounded tired. 

He rubbed at his eyes desperately. “Guys, just…” He faded off, like he didn’t know what to say. 

Seonghwa always knew what to say. Seongwha did not hesitate. 

“If you’re done whimpering,” Hongjoong sneered. “Maybe we can talk about what the hell is happening and why.” 

“You, shut up,” Mingi snapped. “You’re acting like a psycho-” 

“I’m the one who was stolen from my world and dropped in the middle of this  _ crying  _ festival,” Hongjoong snapped, glaring at all of their weak eyes. “And yet, somehow, I’m the one who is calmest, while you’re all acting like-” 

“You don’t remember anything?” Seonghwa asked quietly, eyes intent. “Your major? Your classes?”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “Considering you were mentioning those related to college, and it’s school- no. School hasn’t existed for us for a while. Not in the way you described it.” 

“So, you don’t know which art project you were working on?” Wooyoung tested. 

“Art?” Hongjoong scoffed, almost legitimately laughing. “ _ God,  _ you’re pathetic.” 

The arts had not around for… Never. No one remembered who created the few paintings that existed within the Capital- and certainly no one was wasting their time creating more. 

“You love art,” Seonghwa reminded him gently. 

“Maybe whatever version of me you knew did, but the arts have been dead for as long as anyone can remember,” Hongjoong snapped. 

“This is insane,” San muttered, rubbing at his eyes. He shook his head. “Seriously- what the hell-” 

“What would it take?” Seonghwa asked, spreading his hands helplessly. “In your world, what would it take for someone to cross over into those other worlds that book mentioned?” 

“We aren’t going around jumping worlds,” Hongjoong scoffed. “The author never proved the existence of these other worlds, much less found a way to contact or go to them. It was practically a fiction novel.” 

“But you don’t think so,” Seonghwa hinted, staring at him again. 

And there was that flash again… 

That almost-trust. That near-determination. 

As if, despite everything, this horrendous version of his second in command… might still see something to believe in. 

Idiotic. 

“I can’t think of another explanation, unless you choose to admit that this is an elaborate hoax from Capital.” Hongjoong added a threat on the end there, glaring at Seonghwa and daring him to speak out. 

Seonghwa’s expression was hesitant, his eyes roaming over Hongjoong’s body. In the real Seonghwa, it might have been analytical- searching for weakness or the signs of weariness he had long memorized. 

In this person’s hands, it was almost like searching out blindly in the dark- trying to figure out the shape of whatever was blocking your path. 

“If we untie you,” Seonghwa said quietly. “Do you promise not to hurt anyone?” 

“Hyung!”

“Are you insane?” 

“Don’t!” 

The uproar was drowned out as Hongjoong continued to lock gazes in what might have been a battle- but truly, it was his eyes holding a threatening blade and Seonghwa’s holding a white flag. 

“Why would you?” Hongjoong questioned sharply. “I’ll say I won’t, and then slit your throats.” 

Seonghwa’s expression was too fucking gentle. Too fucking understanding for someone who didn’t know anything about Hongjoong. For someone that Hongjoong had pressed a blade to the throat of only hours before. 

“Because we aren’t a threat to you,” Seonghwa assured him gently. “And as long as you’re not a threat to us… we can work together to figure something out.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened. “You think I’m insane.” 

“Maybe,” Seonghwa agreed, surprisingly. “But I don’t think you’re lying.” 

“What good would untying me do to you?” Hongjoong demanded. “What do you gain from my freedom?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa assured him. “But… But you’re wearing the face of someone I care very deeply for… and I don’t like looking at you like this.” 

For the first time… there was pain in Seonghwa’s eyes that stared at Hongjoong. 

Eyes that were staring at someone who was supposed to be one way… but was acting another. 

_ Boyfriend _ , echoed in his head. 

Though it was nearly laughable, it seemed like this Seonghwa… and this Hongjoong… were intimate. 

Oh, to live in a world where that might be possible. It was hilarious. 

He wondered what that might feel like? Seeing the face of someone you trusted so ardently holding a knife to your throat. 

“I’m not going to let them do anything to you,” Seonghwa promised. “We won’t call the cops, we won’t attack, we won’t try and restrain you.” He held out a hand in a calming gesture. “But you can’t hurt us.” 

“What makes you think you can trust me?” Hongjoong scoffed. “I’ve lied in worse situations.” 

“Because,” Seonghwa said, voice weakening and tightening. “I’m betting on the fact that there’s some part of Hongjoong left inside of you- influencing you- whatever the fuck you want to call it.” 

Hongjoong blinked. 

“And I’m hoping to  _ God, _ ” Seonghwa hissed, expression twisting, “that I can trust you like I could trust him.” 

Trust. 

Funny. 

What would this group know of trust? What would they know of placing your life in another’s hands and knowing that they would give up their own before letting go of yours? 

What would they know of never having to turn around because you knew there would always be someone at your back? 

What would they know of placing your everything into the hands of another and feeling the weight of  _ their  _ lives in your own hands?

The weight of the eyes that stared and waited for orders- prepared to execute them to the death? 

Seonghwa’s definition of trust was as weak as soaked paper- tearing even as you tried to hold it. And Hongjoong was prepared to tell him that. 

But the words caught in his throat infuriatingly. 

Because Seonghwa hadn’t looked away, his eyes still locked on Hongjoong’s. And… there was more than a flash there. 

It was deep- hidden beneath the cowering gentleness- but it was there. Something harder. 

Something that was almost like an echo of his own Seonghwa’s eyes. 

Nowhere near as cold, as calculating, as haunted, as unrelenting, as fearless. But they were… 

They were looking to Hongjoong. And even as his mind screamed to him that the eyes were fake, they were wrong, it wasn’t real… 

His chest felt the familiar pressure that always followed Seonghwa’s eyes on him- as if his gaze itself was a weight to bear. 

It was a watery version. A weak version- barely even a noticeable presence.

But it was still there, and it was making Hongjoong  _ hesitate.  _

Because it wasn’t his Seonghwa- nowhere close. 

But… But it looked like him, in the most basics of Seonghwa. And Hongjoong had spent years of his life trusting Seonghwa in any condition- drugged and half-dead and disoriented. Hongjoong’s trust never wavered for Seonghwa- regardless of what he did. 

Never Seonghwa. 

And Hongjoong felt betrayal well in his throat. Because how  _ dare  _ he even compare this wraith of a person to  _ Seonghwa-  _ who had stood beside Hongjoong through hells that these people could never even imagine?

But… 

What if he could trust this Seonghwa? What if, even in this condition, even in this backwards world… Hongjoong could still trust that base part of the man he trusted beyond anyone else? 

Hongjoong wasn’t going to drop his guard- he wasn’t so foolish. 

But… if this Seonghwa was staring at him and searching for parts of his Hongjoong… Was it possible that Hongjoong could find parts of his Seonghwa in this? 

Hongjoong was prepared this time, as his fists clenched in his bindings. If they tried anything… if they attempted any wrong move… 

Hongjoong would be ready to kill this time, regardless of whose face was being worn. 

“Untie me,” he said darkly, expression growing cold. 

“Do you promise not to hurt anyone?” Seonghwa asked carefully, looking so prepared to trust anything Hongjoong said. 

The thought of killing them anyway crossed his mind. But, if they were the only people who had any idea what was going on, Hongjoong might actually need them… 

Hongjoong had gotten so used to having the unquestionable ability to rely on whoever stood behind him. He hadn’t had to operate on his own for… many years now. 

“I won’t,” Hongjoong ground out. “As long as you don’t give me a reason to.” 

“We aren’t letting you get the knife back,” San said firmly, eyes narrowed. 

Hongjoong scoffed. “As if you could stop me from taking it, if I wanted.” 

“Don’t untie him,” Yunho warned, looking ill. “Seonghwa- he’s crazy, we can’t risk everyone- What if he-” 

“I’m…” Seonghwa looked torn for only a moment before his expression hardened. “I don’t know what else to do but trust him,” he said heavily. “We- We have to take that chance.” 

He saw more protests on the tip of Yunho’s tongue, but the man obviously was able to swallow them as easily as a stone. 

“San, untie him,” Seonghwa said quietly, nodding to Hongjoong. “Gently.” 

Gently. Hongjoong wanted to sneer again, his stomach rolling. He wasn’t  _ breakable. _

But San stepped behind him, sighing quietly. “This is fucking crazy,” he muttered under his breath. 

Hongjoong felt the chord fall away. 

Then the belt. 

There was the sound of something snipping, and the tape binding his hands came apart, though the adhesive stuck to his wrists. 

Hongjoong quickly brought his hands around, tearing the tape from his skin and tossing it to the ground as he rolled his shoulders. 

Everyone in the room stiffened- some of them stepping back. 

Hongjoong gazed at them and wondered how easy it really would be to kill them. But he simply rubbed at his wrists idly as he glared at Seonghwa. 

“Now what?” he spat, still seated in the chair, his senses heightening now that he could move- eyes flickering around to the door and the position of each person in the room. 

“Now, we stay calm,” Seonghwa said quietly, voice turning soothing, as if that would change something inside of Hongjoong. 

“Keep talking to me like a pet, and I’ll cut your tongue out,” Hongjoong spat, every word sounded so much more patronizing in Seonghwa’s voice. 

Seonghwa looked like he didn’t appreciate the threat, but he swallowed. “Why don’t we start with everyone sitting down… and you can tell us about wherever you think you’re from.” 

“What good would that do?” Hongjoong scoffed. “Unless this world has knowledge of how to leap worlds?” he asked mockingly. 

“No,” Seonghwa assured him. “But I’m really fucking scared right now, and I can’t think of anything else to do.” 

His hands were shaking, Hongjoong realized- his eyes flickering down at his sides as his insides curled at Seonghwa’s voice admitting to being afraid. 

It was enough to make him sick. 

“Fine,” Hongjoong spat, standing. 

Yunho, Wooyoung, and Mingi all took a step back, as if he already had a knife. Seonghwa didn’t take his eyes off Hongjoong- whether it was to actually keep an eye on him or not, Hongjoong wasn’t quite sure. 

“We can sit in the living room,” Seonghwa said, gesturing through one of the doors. “Wooyoung, can you get some water bottles?” he requested, sounding like he was trying to act calm. 

Wooyoung looked grateful to be excused for a moment, walking away and towards the fridge as Seonghwa gestured for the others to move. 

“Guys,” Seonghwa said, glancing at all of them. “Go to your rooms, if you don’t feel safe.” 

They hesitated, everyone glancing at each other. Hongjoong wanted to scream at them. 

Would they truly leave Seonghwa alone with someone they believed to be an enemy? 

“I’m serious,” Seonghwa said, firmer. “You don’t have to stay here- you can go to your rooms- or leave completely, just… just don’t tell anyone.” 

He glanced at Yeosang in the corner who hadn’t spoken a word. “Yeosang, you can go-” 

The silent boy shook his head sharply. “No,” he said, voice softer than a feather in the wind. “We aren’t gonna leave you alone with him,” he practically whispered. 

“He’s fucking crazy,” San agreed. “We’re not gonna be out of the room- what if he attacks you again?” 

Seonghwa looked disappointed in their decision to remain, making Hongjoong scoff. “Okay,” he finally said reluctantly. “Guys, go in first,” he ordered. 

From him, with such a soft voice, it sounded more like a suggestion. 

But the others obeyed, filing out of the room- Yeosang pausing to help Wooyoung carry the water bottles.

Seonghwa’s hand reached for Hongjoong again- Hongjoong jerked away with a snarl. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. 

Seonghwa’s expression… was almost saddened. Something heavy as he nodded, gesturing for Hongjoong to move forward. 

Hongjoong walked- keeping one eye on Seonghwa who walked beside him. 

It was only one room over- a large couch that most of the others were shoved onto, only Jongho sitting on the ground in the jungle of legs that he hid among like vines to conceal him. 

There was a smaller sofa with two seats and a larger chair- Seonghwa gesturing to the two of them as a way to tell Hongjoong to pick. 

He walked to the chair- not keen on the ability for anyone to sit near him. Seonghwa immediately sat on the smaller sofa, all of them staring at him as Hongjoong sat slowly- waiting for something to stab through the upholstery. 

He didn’t trust any of this. 

Everything in him was screaming and alarms were blaring, telling him to cut their throats and run back to his team… 

Wherever that was. 

He waited for an attack, a movement against him. But they remained as frightened and tittering as they had always been. 

Seonghwa grabbed a water bottle, holding it out to Hongjoong who glared- insulted that they thought he would ever accept something from them. 

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together as he set the bottle back down. “You can start,” Seonghwa said quietly. “Where do you think you’re from?”

“Don’t act as if I’m insane,” Hongjoong snapped. “You know I’m not someone who’s lost their minds- you know that I come from  _ somewhere, _ ” he hissed, a hand tugging at his hair that was clearly different than they expected. 

Seonghwa’s expression said that he did know that. And he was afraid of that. 

“Fine,” he whispered weakly, like every second of this was a waking nightmare. “Where are you from, then?” 

“Names lost most of their meaning long ago,” Hongjoong muttered darkly. “We stopped naming things, only to have them burn down. Our base is a hundred flits south of Capital.” 

The location of his base was of no consequence- not in this world. And even if they were given that information, it wouldn’t be enough to let them locate the mansion itself. 

“Right,” Seonghwa said, clearly back to humoring. “What’s Capital?” 

Hongjoong resisted the urge to curse. They truly knew nothing. “A place with a history too long and dark to ever explain to you,” he said darkly. “But it’s a place my team and I have been keeping under our boot for years, controlling them like the fires they set on us.” 

“A bad place?” Wooyoung questioned. 

“‘Bad place’ implies that there would be a ‘good place,’” Hongjoong scoffed. “Consider it the ultimate devil in a land of demons occupying hell.” 

“If it’s the devil, but it’s under your control, what does that make you?” Mingi demanded. 

Hongjoong turned burning eyes to him, making him shrink away. 

“We never entered ourselves in the equation,” he said darkly. “To the people who watched us from afar, though…” 

Hongjoong looked at these people. So close, but so far from those he trusted unconditionally… and he realized how truly alone he was in this fight. 

“We became the gods in the sky,” he whispered. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong hadn’t meant to fall back asleep (if the half-aware, darkened state he existed in could be considered sleeping), but he woke up with a start, jerking up- 

He still sat against the headboard, his legs still drawn to his chest, neck aching from the position. He glanced around the room quickly and found no figure looming in the shadows. 

Swallowing around his dry throat, he straightened slowly, gazing at the door that was still most certainly locked… 

Even if he did run, what was the point? 

The world outside  _ wherever  _ this was… was burning and deadly… 

The people here were cruel and ruthless and cold… Hongjoong stared at his toes poking out from the hem of his pants. And they thought he was supposed to be someone just like them. 

Hongjoong glanced around the room once more- a gas lamp on the wall providing light to see by. 

No windows, he noticed. And nothing to occupy the space but the bed he sat in, a chair in the corner, an empty desk, and a chest pushed against the wall. 

Hongjoong sat in frightened silence for another moment, glancing back at the door. He didn’t know how long it had been since Seonghwa left. Didn’t know how long until he got back- if he even would come back. 

Seconds ticked by before Hongjoong felt like he was going to scream if he didn’t move- the tension in the air building every second he sat in fearful anticipation- like waiting for a jump scare in a movie and shrieking at the microwave going off. 

Carefully, Hongjoong slid off the bed- the floor still rough beneath his bare feet. 

He passed the bare desk, taking the risk to slowly turn the doorknob. It resisted and Hongjoong huffed in frustration, stepping away from the locked door. 

He gazed at the chest- nothing more than a rectangular box reminiscent of a foot locker. There was a hook keeping it closed… but not a lock? 

Hongjoong glanced at the door as he dropped to his knees, staring at the dark metal wrapped around it decoratively, fingers brushing over the hook and loop that were secured. 

Holding his breath, Hongjoong unlatched the hook from the loop. When he braced his hands against it and lifted, the lid came up with a quiet creak- nothing else to lock it down. 

Inside… 

Hongjoong frowned. On one side, there was nothing more than a pile of dark colored clothes- looking similar to what Seonghwa and the others had worn. 

One the other, there was nothing but stacks of thin, leather bound books- about ten of them shoved inside. 

Brows furrowed, Hongjoong reached in, ignoring the clothes and picking up the book on top. 

It was the kind of leather bound that you only found by artisans at fairs- the kind of handmade thing that no one was going to go through the effort to make anymore. 

He ran a hand over the brown leather- brighter and less worn than the other books that were faded with handling. 

When he flipped it open- somewhere near the middle of it- he only found blank pages. He flipped through them- all of them blank, save for a small handful in the beginning. 

The first five pages had writing- the book stiff with newness. And on the very front cover, Hongjoong found his own name written carefully, followed by “Vol 10.” 

The words were thin and neat- written in black ink that looked like it was made with fountain pen or something. None of the entries were lengthy- in fact, it looked more like a log book than a journal. 

The page was filled with dates, followed by short paragraphs that Hongjoong’s eyes dragged over quickly. 

_ Sept 4  _ (No year was given.)

_ Capital raid was canceled due to information that they were alerted. Plans have moved to tomorrow. Seonghwa and the others will be in position tonight.  _

_ Sept 7 _

_ Raid successful. Grain and gold were obtained. Jongho is overseeing the redistribution.  _

_ Sept 12 _

_ No action taken.  _

_ Sept 19 _

_ A Capital subject was taken in. Seonghwa overseeing interrogation.  _

_ Sept 20 _

_ Capital subject died during questioning. Cyanide pill.  _

Hongjoong’s stomach rolled as he slammed the book shut, palms sweaty as he shoved it back in. 

What were they? Some sort of terrorist group? 

With shaking hands, Hongjoong grabbed a different book- black leather, instead of brown. 

Every page in this one was filled to the brim. 

_ Feb 23 _

_ Raid to take place tomorrow. Yeosang and Jongho to remain behind to receive people from the West.  _

_ Feb 24  _ (The writing on this one was messier- like he had pressed too hard while writing)

_ Seonghwa was injured during the raid. I will personally be tracking the man who did it.  _

_ Feb 25  _

_ The culprit has been disposed of.  _

There was a dark brown smudge beside this entry- one that Hongjoong was too scared to try and identify. 

He skipped to the middle of the book. 

_ July 13 _

_ Yeosang has been trailing Dohyun for three days now. He has found no openings, and we wait for his word. Seonghwa has suggested sending Wooyoung instead. I followed his suggestion.  _

_ July 21  _ (Again, it was written in anger.) 

_ Dohyung has captured Wooyoung. We infiltrate tomorrow to retrieve him.  _

_ July 22 _

_ 32 boxes of grain.  _

_ 45 bottles of wine.  _

_ 981 matches.  _

_ July 30 _

_ Wooyoung was retrieved. Yunho is overseeing his recovery. Seonghwa disapproved of my actions to rescue him- he called me too reckless with it. It was something I would not discuss. We were able to return Wooyoung to our base. Nothing else matters.  _

_ Aug 1 _

_ Seonghwa berates me as if I were a child. He acts as if I have never risked myself to regain one of my team- as if I would allow them to remain in Capital. He is caught in the past, believing me as ignorant as I had once been. Even should Capital get their hands on me again, I would tear them down from the inside. Regardless of what Seonghwa believes.  _

_ Aug 3 _

_ I have trusted Seonghwa with my life and more. And yet, a single reckless act seems to have shattered his faith in me- as if I desired to be caught by the Capital and return to the Black Room. If anything, he should be grateful that Wooyoung did not remain in those chains any longer. If I risked taking his place, so be it.  _

_ Aug 4  _

_ Requests have come from the East- Dohyun’s men smoking out the village’s vents.  _

There were no more mentions of Seonghwa. Neither mentioning their closeness nor Seonghwa’s berating of Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong’s brow pulled down farther. This Hongjoong was willing to risk himself to save a member of his team… 

What were they fighting against? Were they the bad guys? They were killing people- even if it was for his friends. 

Hongjoong grabbed another book, flipping it open. 

_ Mar 29 _

_ Seonghwa has been missing for 4 days now. All our time is occupied on tracking him down. Those bastards will choke on the blood of their wretched children.  _

Hongjoong’s stomach rolled at the horrible visual. 

_ Apr 2 _

_ Seonghwa was recovered from the Black Room. He says he was not there longer than a day.  _

_ 15 deaths.  _

_ 3 boxes of water.  _

_ Apr 5 _

_ Seonghwa will not speak about his experience, attempting to brush it off, but I know that something haunts him. Something always haunts us, but I can see the strain in his eyes. He refuses to be put on break. I am about to destroy ten years of friendship in order to make him.  _

_ Apr 6  _

_ I have ordered Seonghwa on rest for the next week. He claims he will never forgive me for grounding him before another raid. I find I don’t care.  _

_ Apr 8 _

_ Seonghwa clings to his cold treatment towards me, but it will not make me waver. Even if the days seem twice as long without his company and council.  _

_ Apr 9  _

_ Seonghwa is being childish.  _

_ 43 racks of leather.  _

_ Apr 10 _

_ I will not lift my orders. I miss my friend, but I will not risk his health. San tracks Dohyun and his men further South.  _

_ Apr 11 _

_ Seonghwa speaks to no one. I fear what has turned him like this. Trust has never been lacking among us- and nothing has ever made him remain secretive for so long, with such visible consequences. I will bring my friend back, even if I must drag him from the depths of Seonghwa’s mind-  _

“What the  _ hell  _ are you doing?” 

Hongjoong jumped violently, the book leaping from his hands as he whipped around with a half-scream of fear. 

Seonghwa stood in the doorway- one hand still holding the doorknob, the other one tearing down the mask over his mouth, showing off the anger that stiffened his lips and lit his eyes in a blaze. 

Hongjoong slammed the lid shut, like it might hide what he had been doing. 

He pressed his back to it, nowhere to run to, even if he had thought there was somewhere to go. His throat closed up at Seonghwa’s figure that suddenly looked ten times more intimidating from his place on the floor. 

Excuses and fights were on the tip of his tongue. They wouldn’t leave as Seonghwa’s eyes slashed from Hongjoong to the journal on the ground, so much damning evidence. 

_ He’s going to kill me.  _

Hongjoong stared with eyes that stung as his vision blurred with more tears- 

Seonghwa quiet fury remained ice cold as he strode forward. Hongjoong flinched away, but he snatched the book from the ground, holding it in a grip tight enough to tear through the thinning leather. 

“Are you a spy sent by Capital?” he demanded- the look in his eyes threatening something worse than Hongjoong was capable of imagining. 

“N-No!” Hongjoong fought, shaking his head desperately. “No- I- I was just looking-” 

“At his personal logs?” Seonghwa snapped. 

“I didn’t know what it was!” Hongjoong cried, glancing fearfully at the blade still at Seonghwa’s side. “I just- I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what’s happening- I just- I-” 

Hongjoong’s heart was tearing in half as Seonghwa glared murderously down on him- eyes sharper than tongue or blade. 

There was anger drawn across the lines of his body- as if he was moments away from striking Hongjoong. 

The bruises on his arm seemed to throb in reminder as Seonghwa’s knuckles turned white on the book- Hongjoong waiting for the thick leather to strike him across his face for his audacity. 

Hongjoong cried harder as his lips trembled. 

It was Seonghwa’s face. And Hongjoong’s body was trying to tell him to leap forward- to hug him and bury himself in him until whatever nightmare chasing him was gone. 

But he knew… this wasn’t Seonghwa. And the fear in Hongjoong’s blood at the anger in his eyes- the threat there- 

It was so wrong, wrong,  _ wrong-  _

“S-Seonghwa,” Hongjoong cried, peering up through tears and shaking hands. “ _ S-Seonghwa _ , it’s  _ me, _ ” he whispered desperately. 

It was stupid. This wasn't Seonghwa. Begging wouldn’t sway him. 

Seonghwa’s stony expression didn’t twitch- the anger in his face only growing colder, as if he was that much closer to harming him. 

The imagine of Seonghwa-  _ Seonghwa-  _ being so threatening and angry- 

“Please,” he cried desperately through the tears. “Please, S-Seonghwa, stop it- It’s  _ me _ . You  _ know me _ , don’t-” 

His eyes met Seonghwa’s that felt like ice against his already clammy skin. 

“ _ Stop it _ ,” he whispered hoarsely, tears streaming. “ _ Please-  _ Just- Just stop it, I’m begging you…” 

His words may as well have been directed to a wall for all the good they did. 

“Just- Just give me my Seonghwa back,” Hongjoong cried weakly, pleading through the ache in his chest. “Please, just- I want my Seonghwa back,  _ please- _ ” 

Seonghwa’s grip creaked against the leather of the book, something tightening in his jaw. 

Hongjoong closed his eyes, flinching away- waiting for the strike, the slap, the hit. 

“Please,” he breathed harshly into his chest. “Please- I just want my Seonghwa-” 

Hongjoong knew he was wasting his breath. He knew he was probably only pissing Seonghwa off more. 

Seonghwa-  _ Hongjoong’s  _ Seonghwa- knew Hongjoong inside and out. He knew him better than any other person on this earth. And Hongjoong had never felt afraid of him, not even at his most vulnerable. 

He feared him. 

He hated what this person was doing with Seonghwa’s face- like framing for a crime. 

He bent himself smaller. He wanted his Seonghwa back. 

The one who had only ever touched Hongjoong with gentle hands. 

“ _ Please, _ ” he begged into his knees weakly. Uselessly. 

Seonghwa’s angry, indifferent face stared back cruelly. 


	2. We Are You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I’m a bit late!  
> But thank you for such an enormously amazing response to my first chapter!!!  
> I hope this one lives up to it, but please let me know if anything about both universes is confusing!  
> I’m ecstatic to keep writing this, so please enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think!  
> And most importantly- have an amazing day, lovelies~  
> -SS

Seonghwa stared at the cowering form before him. 

The man he had followed through hell, believing for every moment that he would get them out. 

The man he had trusted blindly- with nothing more than determined eyes and a fire that refused to die… 

Someone he had seen drive a sword through his own stomach to kill a man holding him- tearing it out to continue fighting their way through Capital. 

Someone he had seen- bleeding from every surface of his body and barely able to stand but urging Seonghwa to keep going- all without even stumbling as they ran. 

And to see that man…  _ cowering _ on the floor- begging through tears… 

Staring at Seonghwa that eyes that were usually sharp with determination or wit… eyes that would warm in rare displays of affection shown in a gentle punches to his shoulder… eyes that would look back at Seonghwa, broadcasting trust and reliance as he barked orders. 

And to see those eyes leaking desperate tears, and to see those eyes staring at him in such fear and distrust, and to see those eyes begging him to give him something back- 

_ “Turn back time, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong’s tired, emotionless voice begged. “If you truly want to help me… turn back time.”  _

To see those eyes… staring at Seonghwa… begging him… 

Seonghwa felt a tug in his gut. 

The one that he felt when Hongjoong yelled for him to run. The one that he felt when Hongjoong called for him. The one that he felt whenever Hongjoong held out a hand- demanding help, support, guidance- and Seonghwa’s body reacted without thinking, reaching to take it. 

Despite the fact that this man was  _ not _ the real Hongjoong- he was  _ not _ the leader Seonghwa had placed his faith and future with, knowing it wouldn’t fail. He was  _ not _ the leader that Seonghwa followed by nothing but blind trust, at times. 

But it was his  _ face _ . A face Seonghwa had seen in every situation, every emotion. 

And it was begging Seonghwa for something. 

And Seonghwa felt the instinctual tug to obey, to return, to stand at his side because this was his leader. 

It  _ wasn’t _ . But it was. 

Hongjoong’s logbook was clenched tight in his hands as he resisted the urge to step forward, to take his place at Hongjoong’s side that he  _ knew _ belonged to him- 

“You know me,” Hongjoong croaked pathetically, curling tighter. “Y-You know me, S-Seonghwa- It’s H-Hongjoong-” 

_ “I’m Hongjoong,” that dull voice murmured. “But I don’t even feel like myself, Seonghwa…”  _

Seonghwa shook the dark memories away, teeth gritting together. 

This  _ worm _ was not that Hongjoong. He had never experienced the horrors that Hongjoong had endured and survived. 

But his voice still pleaded with Seonghwa, stirring loose memories that both of them had been eager to forget. 

Seonghwa strode forward with purpose, teeth ready to snap each other as he opened the chest quickly, tossing the book back in, Hongjoong flinching away- 

“Stand,” Seonghwa ordered, voice sharp but not as dangerous as he could be. 

His hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s arm, the other stumbling to his feet quickly, eyes cracking over to watch Seonghwa fearfully- 

The sharp words died on Seonghwa’s tongue. 

It wasn’t his leader. But it was. 

And the idea that this was some sort of spy or trick from Capital was becoming less and less likely in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

It wasn’t his Hongjoong, but his eyes held no lie. 

His jaw flexed. “Your Seonghwa isn’t here,” he said flatly, voice still cold. “In the same way my leader isn’t here.” 

Seonghwa didn’t intend for the words to be a comfort, but he also didn’t expect them to only weigh Hongjoong down further- tears falling afresh as his knees buckled for a moment as he sobbed brokenly, his weight tugging on Seonghwa’s hold on him. 

Seonghwa’s other hand caught his other arm, keeping him upright as Hongjoong caught himself, straightening. 

His body bowed forward, as if he was trying to curl into nothing once more. 

Seonghwa felt distaste and discomfort mingle in his stomach as he resisted the urge to shake him and demand he snap himself out of it. 

This was nothing like those breakdowns he had seen from Hongjoong once. 

He doubted the tactics he had used on his Hongjoong would keep this Hongjoong from losing himself to hysterics. 

Sighing harshly, Seonghwa guided him over to the bed, sitting him on the edge of it, Hongjoong almost collapsing on the mattress, body still bowing as he cried- 

“Stop your tears,” Seonghwa said coldly. “They won’t help you here.” 

Hongjoong hiccupped harshly, lifting weary eyes to Seonghwa, cheeks red and eyes swollen- 

“ _ Stop _ ,” he ordered, reaching forward and wiping the streaks from Hongjoong’s cheeks himself, the other wincing under the rough touch. “Pull yourself together- you aren’t the only victim in this.” 

Hands suddenly shoved Seonghwa’s away- the first sign of aggression Hongjoong had performed against him- angry eyes still glaring through wet lashes. 

“You lost someone,” Hongjoong rasped brokenly. “ _ I’m  _ the one who apparently lost everything I fucking know,” he hissed. 

Seonghwa stood, jaw tightening. 

“ _ I’m  _ the one who lost all their friends and had them replaced with cruel, psychotic  _ monsters, _ ” he snapped weakly. “ _ I’m  _ the one who saw someone I’ve always been able to trust, throwing me around like a fucking ragdoll!” 

He shoved the sleeve of his shirt up, exposing little fingerprints of bruises. 

“ _ I’m  _ being shoved in a room, threatened and pushed around for not understanding a world I never knew existed!” His voice broke, but he didn’t stop. “ _ I’m  _ the one trying to understand where I am while you’re accusing me of stealing someone’s body- I’m about to lose my fucking  _ mind- _ ” 

He broke off, a little manic as he stared at Seonghwa. 

“So, I’m fucking  _ sorry, _ ” he spat hoarsely, “If you lost a friend, and wish he was back- that must fucking  _ suck, _ ” he mocked. “But don’t fucking expect sympathy and cooperation from someone you claim is your prisoner.” 

And despite the part of Seonghwa that wanted to strike him for being so insolent and wild- 

His hand remained firmly by his side. 

Their world was hell. 

Seonghwa had seen things no person should ever have to see. To someone who had never had to live that life… perhaps these little things were more sensitive. 

This wasn’t Hongjoong, he reminded himself. He didn’t know this land, like Hongjoong did- born from it and fighting for it. 

Hongjoong’s eyes continued to leak tears that rose in volume and waned in intensity- like he was struggling to gain control of himself. 

Seonghwa watched him fail again and again, meeting his sharp eyes and breaking down once more each time he had almost regained control. 

Finally, Seonghwa rolled his eyes, stepping up to the bed and tugging Hongjoong forward. He resisted, a weak protest in his throat, until Seonghwa tugged his head against his abdomen (the height difference between standing and sitting). 

Hongjoong stiffened, hands shoving at Seonghwa from within the embrace. 

“ _ Let go _ ,” He hissed angrily, weak hands on Seonghwa’s hip. “Let go-  _ You- _ ” 

“If nothing else will stop your tears than take whatever sympathy you need,” Seonghwa said darkly. “I don’t have time to sit here and comfort you for the reality you now find yourself in.” 

Hongjoong cried harder, still pushing at Seonghwa. 

“Let go-  _ You aren’t him,  _ you’re a fucking fake- You aren’t  _ him,  _ you aren’t-” 

The strength in his arms weakened with each strike that eventually devolved into Hongjoong’s body slumping against Seonghwa’s, sobbing into his shirt as his punches turned to fists in the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt. 

And eventually, the hands that tried to shove him away pulled him closer, his face buried harder into Seonghwa’s shirt as he cried. 

Seonghwa stared blankly at the opposite wall, uncaring. 

_ “Pathetic, aren’t I?” Hongjoong had chuckled bitterly as his hand scrubbed across his eyes.  _

_ “No,” Seonghwa had replied immediately. “What you survived makes you nearly superhuman, in my eyes.”  _

_ Another bitter laugh that was shoved aside as Hongjoong forced himself to his unsteady legs. “Crying like a child,” he muttered. “Strike me the next time I do that, would you?” _

_ “I won’t,” Seonghwa replied crisply- one of the only orders he had ever refused.  _

Alarmingly quickly, Hongjoong’s cries quieted into whimpers as he leaned into Seonghwa. He wondered if Hongjoong had managed to trick his senses- if he had convinced himself that the body he felt was really the Seonghwa he begged for. 

As soon as Hongjoong took a breath that seemed half-controlled, Seonghwa pulled away. 

“Have you finished?” he questioned briskly. 

Hongjoong stared at him through swollen eyes, silent and tired. 

Seonghwa resisted the urge to scoff. “Sleep,” he ordered. “Or lay here and cry yourself sick- I don’t care.” 

He turned, unable to stand looking at the pitiful expression staring at him, as if still pleading. He silenced the tug in his gut. 

“Yunho will bring you food later,” Seonghwa said as he pulled the door open. “Tomorrow morning, we will discuss how you came here and what it means.” 

“Your leader…” 

Seonghwa froze where he was nearly out the door, not looking back, his grip tightening on the wood. 

“He was close to you.” 

“I was his second in command,” Seonghwa said shortly. 

“He called you his friend.” 

Seonghwa did look back at that- sharp and deadly. 

For once, Hongjoong did not flinch- looking too tired to. “In that journal.” He nodded to the chest, turning back to Seonghwa. “He talked about you… like the two of you were close.” 

The fact that this imposter might hold some sort of knowledge about his and Hongjoong’s relationship- 

He would never understand. He  _ could  _ never understand. Not with his eyes that had never seen anything close to the horrors they had survived together. 

“Whatever watered-down definition you have of friend is sorely misused with us,” Seonghwa snapped. “You don’t understand what this world is- do not act like you do.” 

“You cared for him, too,” Hongjoong murmured. “You were worried when he was reckless.” 

How dare he presume? 

“ _ You- _ ” 

“Then you understand what I’m feeling?” he croaked, trying to glare. “You understand what it feels like to lose someone like that?” 

“ _ Unlike you,”  _ Seonghwa spat bitterly, “I actually have the ability to control myself enough to be useful in finding that person again.” 

He very clearly saw the flash of hurt tear across Hongjoong’s face- but Seonghwa was long gone by the time it would have made a difference to him, slamming the door shut and locking it firmly as he strode down the hallway- boots thudding loudly. 

He didn’t have time to waste babysitting and comforting someone who would never be of any use to them. 

And he certainly didn’t need his own inability to separate this imposter and the real Hongjoong distracting him with useless emotions like pity. 

“Seonghwa.” 

He jerked to a stop, turning stiffly to see Jongho standing across the living area- a wicker basket in his hands from the doorstep. 

He tugged his mask down now that he was inside, lips set in a hard line of aggressiveness, though something shone in his eyes. “It’s really not him?” he asked. 

“I won’t waste time answering questions you already know,” Seonghwa said briskly. 

Jongho’s eyes lost their apprehension, hardening into something like stone. “What are we going to do about it?” he asked, voice reserved. “We have a raid planned in a few days- Hongjoong was going to-” 

“We can call off the raid, if necessary,” Seonghwa assured him. 

“They’re going to move on and we’ll lose them again, if you don’t lead the raid when we scheduled,” Jongho fought, as if Seonghwa and Hongjoong hadn’t spent weeks pouring over details and maps to ensure their exact position in an exact moment. 

“I know that,” he said, voice sharpening dangerously. “But I’m not going to risk this team by having us go in without Hongjoong- he’s the only one who knows the compound well enough-” 

Jongho stepped forward- like the physical manifestation of the younger overstepping his boundaries. “What if we don’t get him back?” Jongho fought. “What are we supposed to do if he never comes back?” 

“Are you doubting Hongjoong?” Seonghwa demanded, low and dangerous as his fist clenched. 

Jongho didn’t lose any of his fire, but his lips pressed together in a clear sign of deference. “No,” He said quietly. “Of course not.” 

“He  _ will  _ find his way back to us,” Seonghwa bit out roughly, blood running a little too quickly. “And if he doesn’t,  _ we  _ will find a way to get him back- Do you plan on giving up on him?” he accused. 

Jongho shook his head resolutely, the idea preposterous. 

“Then he will either find his way back, or we will keep searching for him until this world finally burns to ash- do you understand?” he snapped. 

Hongjoong had never abandoned them. He would bend time and space to reach his team- he would impale himself on his own loyalty before leaving them behind. 

And Seonghwa would tear this world apart, stone by stone, before he even thought of accepting the fact he was gone for good. Hongjoong had never abandoned them, and he would not let this team abandon their leader. 

Not that their team would ever leave him behind. 

But sometimes… sometimes, fear began to take root, when their closest people were involved. Even Seonghwa felt the very beginnings of a bud of fear in his stomach. 

But it was his job- while Hongjoong was gone- to kill those weeds before they could root. 

Jongho stared at Seonghwa for a long moment, and he watched the final shred of apprehension fade from the younger’s expression as he nodded sternly- a fire dancing in his eyes. 

“Finish bringing that to the store room,” Seonghwa ordered, already turning away. “And then gather the others for a meeting in the Hall- we have too much to discuss.” 

Jongho merely made a noise of affirmation, walking away with purpose as Seonghwa found his way through two more doors. 

He closed the door to Hongjoong’s study firmly- resisting the urge to lean against the door for support. But he stood stiffly, back straight and strong. As always. 

The study was completely untouched- exactly the way he and Hongjoong had left it only a little over a day ago. 

The pen still sat outside of its holder- despite how many times Seonghwa would replace it when Hongjoong set it down carelessly. 

The thick tome of supply logs was still open- the ink left to dry as they had discussed the raid for the compound just outside of Capital- Hongjoong recalling every memory he had of a place he had been to only once in his life. 

There was still a half-eaten apple, one that Seonghwa had scolded Hongjoong for not finishing, but the man had simply stated he was no longer hungry. 

And Seonghwa’s fists clenched at his sides. 

Something had been wrong with Hongjoong that day. Maybe in the moment, Seonghwa hadn’t seen it- Hongjoong and the rest of them had every right to be paranoid. Trusting your instinct (no matter how insane it seemed) was the only thing keeping them alive at times. 

Hongjoong had tried to tell him- and that fact slammed into Seonghwa’s chest with the crushing weight of failure. 

He had spent hours in his room- restless and staring, as if he could sense the presence of danger around him. Seonghwa had simply told him to rest. 

But Hongjoong often got… twitchy when talking about Capital, and especially his time spent there. Seonghwa hadn’t seen the things that were wrong. That were different from his usual paranoia. 

Could Seonghwa have stopped this-

He killed the thought before it could form, shaking his head roughly as he shoved away from the door. Speculation and guilt helped no one- Seonghwa wouldn’t waste time by wondering over his failures. 

He had to pay for them- by finding Hongjoong. 

He set about examining the room, looking for anything out of place as he waited for the others to gather in the Hall. 

~~~~~~~~

“You’re like Robin Hood.” 

Seonghwa resisted the urge to smack Wooyoung for such a useless analogy at a time like this. 

He saw Hongjoong’s face draw in tight- harsh and cold and rough… 

Nothing like the vibrant light he was used to seeing in those eyes. 

“What the hell is that?” he demanded- his voice sounding like ash and ink. 

“Robin Hood,” Wooyoung repeated, nodding. “Take from the rich, give to the poor.” 

“Money is all but useless outside of Capital, it’s useless to take it and give it somewhere else,” Hongjoong scoffed, eyes hard like diamonds, sharp enough to cut. “And we don’t steal from Capital, we send a message. Capital complies- or it finds half its citizens cut down.” 

“You kill them?” San asked, eyes wide. 

“Are you running the entire country?” Yunho demanded, looking ill.

“We placed ourselves to be in a position of  _ control, _ ” Hongjoong corrected sharply- 

Seonghwa didn’t like the way he looked at them- the people who were supposed to be his friends. He didn’t like how he looked at them, as if they were stupid, as if they were lesser… 

Hongjoong had never looked at  _ anyone  _ that way. 

“We have no desire to run the world. Merely to have Capital comply with our word.” His fingernails scratched idly at the fabric of the chair he sat in. “Capital can keep running its taxes and programs- but when we say enough, they stop or they face the consequences.” 

“But you don’t take anything from them?” Jongho said quietly, flinching when Hongjoong looked at him, but Seonghwa was too far away to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“We don’t need to,” he said darkly. “Consequently, Capital often winds up returning most of the extra things they take. Our actions happen to benefit most of the lower class. In turn, the towns give us a share of what was returned.” 

“You take their food and stuff?” San demanded, expression shocked. 

“We have never  _ asked  _ for it,” Hongjoong snapped, like a whip cracking. “But they’re free to do as they wish- we never asked for sacrifices or things meant to appease us.” 

Seonghwa’s stomach churned, unsettled. “Because you’re gods,” He said, voice not strong enough to be much more than a whisper. 

Hongjoong’s eyes snapped to him in a glare. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong had fought before. And they had had bad fights before. They had said horrible things that they never meant. 

Even at their darkest moments, Seonghwa had never seen Hongjoong look so cold and uncaring. As if everything around him was just an obstacle in his path to destroy. 

“ _ They  _ saw us as gods,” Hongjoong corrected sharply, as if the statement had insulted him. “They should know by now that their supposed ‘offerings’ do not sway us. We act on our own agenda- and if they happen to benefit, that was not by design.” 

“What is your agenda?” Seonghwa asked, and really… he didn’t know if he wanted the answer. 

Everything was too crazy. Too much. 

Because that wasn’t Hongjoong- his hair was long, brown- Hongjoong’s hair hadn’t been a regular color since they entered college. And his clothes were ones that Hongjoong would never be caught dead in- all black with no vibrant color that almost made Seonghwa embarrassed to go out with him. 

It wasn’t Hongjoong. 

But what the fuck was he? And if he wasn’t just Hongjoong in the middle of a breakdown- what else was true? What else that he was saying was real? 

Hongjoong’s expression darkened- something almost haunted there, but it was drowned out by bitter anger. 

“One that is unachievable,” Hongjoong confessed darkly. “We can’t save our world- it’s too late for that. But we can stop Capital from burning more land. We can stop them from killing people off quicker. We can control these people who locked themselves away, and thought that they could save themselves from the hell the rest of the world burned in.” 

“Holy fucking shit,” Mingi muttered, staring in disbelief. “You’re talking like a goddamn D&D campaign.” 

“Stop it,” San hissed, smacking his leg. “This is serious.” 

“No, this is  _ insane, _ ” Mingi fought. “It’s hyung, but it’s not- he’s talking about burning worlds, and he’s wearing emo clothing- And what the hell are we supposed to do about it?” 

“I think I need a nap,” Yeosang whispered from where he was squished between Wooyoung and the end of the couch, pointedly not looking at Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa glanced at his friends- 

And maybe they had decided to stay, but Seonghwa could see how freaked out they were, how scared. And that was fair because Seonghwa was about to throw up any second. 

Everyone was too close to some sort of breaking point. 

“Guys,” Seonghwa said, and when they all looked at him- Hongjoong included, with a glare- the words almost died on his tongue. 

But he shook his head. 

“Wooyoung, San, take Yeosang down to the convenience store- get some ice cream or something. Just get out of the house.” He gestured weakly. “Jongho- why don’t you, Yunho and Mingi go walk down to the fountain on campus.” 

“Why?” San demanded, frowning. 

“Just- Get some space,” Seonghwa pressed. “Everyone is overwhelmed- let’s just take a minute, okay?” 

“And leave you alone with him?” Wooyoung snapped. “What are  _ you  _ gonna do?”

Seonghwa didn’t know, and that was kind of why he needed the others at least to leave the room because he couldn’t act as the responsible older hyung while also trying not to break down at the bruises he could still feel around his neck. 

And the more questions they threw at him, the more pressure built in Seonghwa’s throat at how utterly lost he was. 

“Just… please,” He said quietly, voice stiff. “Please… let’s just- everyone, get some space and calm down. I’ll be fine, I promise… but I just need you guys… Let’s just take a minute.” 

“He tried to kill you before,” Yunho pressed darkly, and Seonghwa really needed him to stop reminding him. “We can’t just leave-” 

“Yunho, I am three seconds away from begging you,” Seonghwa said thickly, looking at them with pleading eyes. “I just… need a minute. I will be fine, I promise-” 

His voice broke off, and he felt his hands beginning to shake as he placed them firmly in his lap. 

Finally, it seemed, pity overtook reasoning. Their concerned expressions softened into compliance as Wooyoung broke the silence first, sighing. 

“Come on,” He said quietly, grabbing Yeosang’s hand and pulling him to his feet, gesturing for San to follow. Yeosang glanced at Seonghwa- one more fleeting, pitying look- but Seonghwa smiled comfortingly, trying to appear confident. 

Yunho and Mingi were slower to move, but they tugged Jongho up, guiding him out, even as he began to protest leaving Seonghwa alone. 

With their absence, he felt the weight of appearances lifting from his shoulder, even as the weight of solitude settled down. 

He let go of a breath. 

“That’s a very stupid move,” Hongjoong’s twisted voice broke the silence. “Sending them away- choosing to be alone with someone who’s your enemy.” 

“You aren’t my enemy,” Seonghwa said gently, lifting his eyes to stare at his cold expression. “And they were scared.” 

“Are you?” Hongjoong asked cruelly. 

“I think it’s pretty obvious.” He gripped the cushion beneath him. 

Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow. “And you still chose to be alone with me? I could kill you easily.” 

“Will you?” Seonghwa asked, just feeling so tired and dizzy from the circles they talked in. 

“I don’t need a weapon,” Hongjoong warned, looking peeved. 

“But  _ will you _ ?” Seonghwa pressed quietly, expression tightening. “You tried to kill me before- I know you  _ can.  _ But will you do it  _ now? _ ” 

That was all Seonghwa cared about at the moment. Hongjoong could curse and kick and scream- Seonghwa’s only immediate concern was whether or not he was about to be killed. 

Hongjoong’s face didn’t shift- but Seonghwa could tell he was mulling over the question. 

Hongjoong threatened to kill Seonghwa all the time- if he moved his paints, if he didn’t hug him back, if he was late to walk home from classes- 

Seonghwa’s hand ghosted over his aching neck. 

“Not now, no,” Hongjoong finally said- calculating eyes burning into Seonghwa’s hand and neck. “Currently, you’re more useful to me alive than dead. You may be idiots, but if the rest of the world is like you, I’d be foolish to dispose of a useful connection.” 

A useful… connection. Seonghwa hummed, nodding slightly. 

“So… you don’t know how to get back to your world?” Seonghwa clarified quietly. 

“You think I would still be here if I did?” he spat viciously. 

“You mentioned a book before,” Seonghwa said, ignoring the snide comments. “It didn’t tell any theories on how to get back and forth? Even just speculation?”

He saw Hongjoong’s lips thin, his entire body tense and strung out like a wire. As if he were reconsidering not killing him. 

And Seonghwa realized that even with the bruises around his neck…. Even with the fear in his chest at being left alone with this clearly unhinged person… he didn’t really think Hongjoong would kill him. 

Because even if he knew, in his head, that this was not Hongjoong… there was no way for Seonghwa to look at Hongjoong and think, in his heart, that he would hurt Seonghwa. 

“I never read the book thoroughly,” Hongjoong said darkly, eyes dropping to stare at the floor- as if he was envisioning the book open before him. “I read it, once, years ago. I hardly remember any of it- and the parts I do remember were nonsense.” 

Seonghwa felt hope- or whatever was keeping him going- slowly shrinking in his chest. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, trying to remain calm. “Okay- the last time I saw… my Hongjoong,” he said weakly, “was just after 3 o’clock yesterday. You- I mean, he went to take a nap. He slept straight through until nighttime, and I-” 

Seonghwa was going to say ‘And I know he was there when I went to bed.’ 

But then he realized that Hongjoong had been buried beneath the covers. Seonghwa had entered, debated whether or not to kiss him goodnight, but knew that Hongjoong would likely be crabby at being woken up. 

Seonghwa had simply laid down beside him and played on his phone until he fell asleep relatively quickly. 

His stomach dropped. How long had this person been in that bed?

“I went to bed,” he said instead. “And I woke up to you.” 

He saw Hongjoong’s lips curl- as if the thought of sleeping beside Seonghwa brought a sour taste to his mouth. 

“The last thing I remember is sitting in my room,” Hongjoong said firmly, as if Seonghwa might try and fight him on it. “I felt…  _ off  _ all day,” He confessed. “Like…” He trailed off, glaring. 

“Like someone was watching you?” Seonghwa guessed. 

“No,” He snapped. “Like… there was something in the air. A force, a presence- not a person. As if the air were vibrating…” His voice dropped lower. “As if something were coming.” 

The words sent a shiver down Seonghwa’s spine that nearly made him gag as he stared at Hongjoong. 

Mingi was right, it did seem like something out of a game. But Hongjoong’s words were too… too… 

They held too much truth. They were spoken with too much conviction and belief behind them for Seonghwa not to find himself believing them. 

Maybe he was crazy, too. 

“Seongh-” Hongjoong bit off the word, as if snatching it back to keep it from escaping as he glared darker at Seonghwa. “My second in command told me to rest. I sat down in my chair, and I suppose I fell asleep.” His expression soured again. “I woke up to  _ you. _ ” 

_ You.  _ As if Seonghwa was some age old enemy he had sworn to destroy. 

Seonghwa hid away the parts of him that ached with hurt at the harsh words, simply nodding. “Do you think whatever…  _ presence  _ you felt did this?”

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong practically spat. “But I don’t think so. Even in my world, nothing like magic and demons are real.” He glanced up sharply. “Unless you have them here?” 

“No,” Seonghwa assured him. “Then what  _ were  _ you feeling?”

“Just paranoia, perhaps,” Hongjoong admitted through his teeth. “Or maybe something else. I don't usually get such strong feelings, unless there really is something there.” His fingers tug into the fabric of the chair, his entire body seeming made of marble… 

Nothing like his Hongjoong, who couldn’t sit properly to save his life, and then acted surprised when his back hurt from crouching in his seats. 

But then what brought this Hongjoong here? No person could tear people out of worlds, and Hongjoong said there wasn’t anything like magic or supernatural forces. 

Then what could have done this? 

Seonghwa felt like he was going insane, buying into all of this. But what other explanation  _ was there _ ?

When had his biggest concern gone from his Human Anatomy project, to his boyfriend trying to kill him and saying he was from a different world that was burning, in which he was a practical tyrant who happened to  _ maybe  _ have good intentions? 

“Then, I guess our biggest lead would be that book,” Seonghwa said heavily, his blood feeling sluggish suddenly. “Can you try and remember any of it?” 

“My memory is good, but not that good,” Hongjoong assured him darkly, eyes snapping around the room like each glance was as picture being taken. “And even if I could remember something- what good do you think it could do us? If what he was saying was true, he wouldn’t have been a laughing stock, you idiot.” 

“Well what other  _ choice  _ do we have?” Seonghwa suddenly snapped, much louder than he intended. 

But once the first shout came, he felt like a floodgate had been opened as Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. 

“How about you stop fighting and insulting us, and try to actually  _ think  _ of a fucking solution!” Seonghwa yelled angrily, eyes stinging. “How about you stop glaring, as if  _ we’re _ the ones who are out of place, and just help me get my fucking  _ boyfriend  _ back!” 

Seonghwa wiped roughly at the tears that hadn’t fallen yet, holding them back with all his might as he glared at the figure sitting across from him. 

The one who was still glaring, as if Seonghwa’s outburst was nothing more than an annoyance. 

“I have as many answers as you,” Hongjoong said, his voice low and dangerous. 

Seonghwa was suddenly questioning his feelings on whether he would actually kill him. 

“Don’t act as if I’m just being difficult- I’m as lost as you are,” the other snapped. “I’m sitting in a world that makes no sense, and surrounded by people who are just stumbling their way around without anything useful to say!” 

“Well,  _ excuse me, _ ” Seonghwa retorted bitterly, “I’ve never had to deal with a psychopath jumping worlds- which in and of itself is fucking insane! You’re lucky I’m believing this at all!” 

“You think this is something  _ normal  _ for me?” Hongjoong demanded, shifting forward with white knuckles on the arms of the chair. “And look at the proof before you- you’d be an idiot to think I was somehow lying! You’d be a fool not to believe me!” 

“Apparently, we’re idiots anyway.” Seonghwa’s stomach was flipping and clenching sickeningly. “I can’t believe I’m going along with this-” 

“Then why  _ are  _ you humoring me?” Hongjoong demanded dangerously. “Why are you fighting your friends- Why would you demand I be untied? If it’s so  _ ridiculous,  _ why haven’t you locked me in a room until someone comes to take me away?” 

“Because you’re  _ him! _ ” Seonghwa yelled, getting to his feet- which prompted Hongjoong into standing as well, his eyes dangerously wary- daring Seonghwa to attack. 

Seonghwa didn’t want to attack, he wanted Hongjoong back. 

“You’re him, but you’re not!” he snapped, feeling his heart clenching as his stomach rolled. “You have his face, but you barely even  _ look  _ like him! And I’m fucking  _ stupid-  _ I can’t stand the sight of him tied up, of him being so angry, of him talking to the people closest to him like  _ you  _ do-” 

Hongjoong scoffed, as if it was something not even worth his concern. 

“-I just have to keep going along with you!” Seonghwa fought. “I just have to keep  _ going along  _ and hoping that you’ll say  _ something  _ that’ll give me a clue as to what the hell is  _ happening,  _ because I’m so lost right now,  _ I can’t even- _ ” 

Seonghwa suddenly gagged, his stomach convulsing in a clear warning. 

He didn’t even care anymore. He turned on his heel, racing to the bathroom, just in time to vomit into it, hands shaking where they gripped the toilet weakly. 

Maybe he should try and pass out. Maybe that would make things better. But Seonghwa didn’t pass out, he just gagged again, tears streaming down his face- either from vomiting or something else. 

He would like to wake up now. 

But he knew it wasn’t a dream. So he forced himself to his feet- flushing the toilet and rinsing his mouth at the sink, his throat burning and his limbs heavy. 

He turned, shuffling out of the bathroom- 

Hongjoong stood in the hall- like some sort of wraith or shadow in his dark clothing as he leaned against the wall- eyes blacker than his suit. 

Hongjoong was small. He had never been dangerous or threatening. But somehow, this Hongjoong seemed a hundred feet tall and untouchable. 

“You want me gone as much as I want to get back to my world,” Hongjoong said, a bitter taste in his mouth. “So, if you can keep your stupid friends level headed enough that I can try and find a way to fix this, you might be able to get your  _ precious  _ version of me back.” 

He said ‘precious’ so mockingly… as if something about it were fake. As if Seonghwa were foolish for thinking of Hongjoong like that. 

As if Hongjoong wasn’t the best thing that had ever happened to Seonghwa. 

“Fine,” Seonghwa rasped, choking slightly on the burn of bile in the back of his throat. “But you need to calm down,” He warned. “Stop yelling at them, stop glaring at them, and if you can be civil, we’ll run into a lot less problems.” 

This whole ordeal was like an acid trip. 

Hongjoong’s lips curled. “I have no reason to be civil.” 

“If you have your conditions, I have mine,” Seonghwa said firmly. “The people here have enough going on in their lives without you acting like an asshole while wearing our best friend’s face.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, making Seonghwa’s lips thin. 

“Do you  _ promise  _ not to hurt anyone?” Seonghwa pressed, fingers curling. 

“ _ Fine, _ ” Hongjoong snapped, looking at him sharply. “So long as none of them try anything, you won’t hear a peep from me.” He glowered darkly. “Where can I go where those idiots won’t disturb me?” 

A reprimand sat on Seonghwa’s tongue but he was too fucking tired to let it fall as he sighed harshly, composing himself for a moment. “Come on,” He muttered, stepping past Hongjoong, down the hall. 

Hongjoong pushed off the wall, walking silently, despite the boots on his feet. It was unsettling. 

He shoved open the door to… well, it was  _ their  _ room. He gestured Hongjoong in shortly. “Here,” He said quietly, not able to look at Hongjoong who stepped in. “No one will go in here- just… do whatever you think you need to,” he muttered.

Hongjoong simply hummed, disinterested as he looked around the room once more. Seonghwa stepped back. 

Hongjoong turned without a word, closing the door between them, leaving Seonghwa alone in the hallway. 

He winced as he heard the lock click, his fingers curling tighter at his sides as he forced himself to walk away. He didn’t stop until he was out in the living room again, practically collapsing on the couch as he threaded fingers through his hair tightly. 

He didn’t think or try and work through anything- he didn’t even let himself think back to the man in their room. 

He cried silently, aside from the quick intakes of breath between every sob. He didn’t lift his head when he heard the front door open. 

“Hyung?” he heard Wooyoung’s voice call, carefully quiet. 

He heard them reach the living room, and their quiet noises of shock- suddenly the couch was dipping on either side of him. 

“What happened?” San demanded. “Did he hurt you? Where is he?” 

Seonghwa managed to shake his head slowly. “He didn’t do anything. He’s in the bedroom,” he said weakly. “Just… leave him be, it’s okay for now.” 

It didn’t feel okay. But he acted like it was. 

“Here,” Yeosang’s quiet voice came, and a cold cup was pressed into his hand- ice cream given as a comfort, in true Yeosang fashion. 

Seonghwa tried to pull himself together between taking small bites of cold sweetness and answering their questions of whether or not he still believed Hongjoong. 

He hated that he did still believe him. 

“Hyung, this is beyond crazy,” San’s heavy voice told him. “But… if you want us to act like what he’s saying it true… we can play along.” 

Seonghwa hummed, almost choking on his ice cream as Yeosang quietly rubbed his back comfortingly. 

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” Wooyoung asked quietly- probably speaking to San or Yeosang, rather than Seonghwa. “Hongjoong has class tomorrow.” 

“Is that really our biggest concern?” Yeosang asked quietly. 

“We don’t know how long this is going to last,” Wooyoung pressed. “If Hongjoong misses all those classes- he’s got finals next week.” 

San called him an idiot, but Wooyoung maybe had a point. Hongjoong worked too hard for this stuff to crumble around him- and he didn’t think their professors would accept an excuse note talking about worlds that were burning. 

It was just another thing added to the list of things he couldn’t handle right now. 

Seonghwa pointedly ignored the list for now, staring at his ice cream and wondering… what had happened to his Hongjoong… 

If this…  _ doppelganger  _ was here, where was his Hongjoong?

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong found the courage to stand from the bed for a second time after he had nearly cried himself sick. 

And  _ that _ , Hongjoong had found long ago, was the beauty of hitting rock bottom- after all your tears had gone dry and you were too tired to even sob anymore, just staring off in quiet apathy. 

The only place to go was up. 

He dragged himself up, like he had last semester during finals, and he forced his apathetic body into motion. But instead of heading to a shower, he stumbled towards the door once more, his vision almost going tunnel as he set a goal. 

Stop crying. Start moving. 

He vehemently shook off the sensation of leaning into Seonghwa’s body and fooling himself that it was actually him. 

He needed to stop that. These were not his friends, and they were nothing like them. They would offer him no comfort or understanding. They were probably more dangerous than Hongjoong could imagine. 

He was a prisoner. 

Hongjoong grabbed the doorknob quietly, holding his breath as he twisted- 

It opened. 

Swallowing thickly, he pushed it open, sticking his head out into the same hallway he had exited into before. It was empty and silent, making Hongjoong shiver as he stepped out carefully- his feet aching against the cold floor. 

Slowly, he shifted down the hall, glancing behind him every step- 

Just at the mouth of the hall, he froze, holding his breath as someone strode across the room he was about to enter into- 

Hongjoong clasped a hand over his mouth as he saw someone- 

Yunho, he recognized through the dark clothing and mask- manhandling a body in front of him that he towered over. 

It was another man, dressed in a burn blue suit, with a gag in his mouth and blindfold over his eyes as Yunho shoved him forward and through another door, leaving Hongjoong to stare in horror- 

“You.” 

He barely bit back a scream as he jerked away, whipping around, his back hitting the wall. 

Wooyoung’s face stared back at him darkly. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his dumb, dolphin-shrieking laugh nowhere to be seen. 

Hongjoong’s voice caught in his throat, but he swallowed. “I- The door was unlocked.” 

“What were you  _ trying  _ to do?” he asked impatiently, annoyance showing. 

“I-I don’t know- Nothing,” he said weakly, trying to look past all the annoyance and twisted expression on his friend’s face. 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes- that same brand of dark and bitter as everyone else here. “Come on,” He said roughly, reaching for Hongjoong. “Seonghwa will decide-” 

Hongjoong jerked away from the hand, nearly slapping it away. Wooyoung glared at the reaction. “Don’t touch me,” Hongjoong murmured. “I’ll follow you- Just don’t touch me.” He rubbed idly over the bruises on his arm.

Another roll of his eyes. Wooyoung strode forward, passing Hongjoong and immediately glancing back to ensure he was going to comply. 

Hongjoong followed, arms drawn in tightly. He stared at the back of Wooyoung’s head as they walked purposefully through rooms. 

There was no teasing or laughter or shrieking as they walked- not even when they passed San walking the opposite direction- sharp eyes flashing at Hongjoong, but neither of them said a word as San continued on his way without stopping. 

Wooyoung stopped suddenly at a large oaken door, Hongjoong nearly running into the back of him as Wooyoung knocked on it- heavy and loud. Hongjoong didn't hear a response, but Wooyoung pushed the door open anyway, stepping inside. 

“Seonghwa,” he said, like a soldier reporting to a general. “He was walking around.” 

Hongjoong stepped in slowly, in no hurry to see this Seonghwa again, but the room was startlingly plain- just a long table with eight chairs situated around it with files and papers and typewriters scattered across it. 

Seonghwa sat in one seat, glancing up with eyes that looked like Hongjoong was the last person he wanted to see. 

Seonghwa closed the book he was reading- a red cover with a brown spine- as he stood. 

“Have you composed yourself enough to actually speak?” he asked petulantly. 

Hongjoong bit back the part of him that wanted to fight. He was too tired at this point. “Just tell me what I need to do to get back home.” 

Seonghwa walked around the table with shoulders that stood so proud for someone so cruel. “Don’t you think, if we knew how to do that, we wouldn’t have gotten rid of you already?” he sneered. 

“Then tell me what I have to do to figure it out,” Hongjoong pressed, firmer, expression hardening. “What- Are there books? Is there someone who has the answers? What the hell do I need to do to get home?” 

He wanted to be angry, but all he could manage was a dull voice and a hard stare. 

But Seonghwa… his expression ticked- not in annoyance, like before- but almost in curiosity, as if Hongjoong had done something surprising. He stared at Hongjoong for several seconds, as if sizing him up, determining his worth once again. 

“This is as foreign to us as it is to you,” Seonghwa assured if, as if he were a businessman at a table. “The best we can do is search for answers in things that were once imagined impossible.” 

“Like?” Hongjong asked quickly. 

Seonghwa gestured back to the book on the table. “Nothing like this has ever happened, but everyone has speculations about other worlds and alternate versions-” Cold eyes dropped to Hongjoong. “Don’t they?”

“If you’re asking if we have that in my world, it’s fictional,” Hongjoong replied shortly, but the fire didn’t even spark in his eyes. 

There was nothing he hated more than being spoken to like a child. 

“Same in ours,” Seonghwa relented. “But people have speculated. Never with proof and often only with ridicule, but it’s a situation that may require those kinds of ideas.” 

Hongjoong frowned. “You’re looking for answers in comic books?” 

“Whatever those are, the answer is no,” Seonghwa huffed impatiently. “The man who wrote that book was renowned, before he made the claims inside of it,” He explained, pointing to the red cover. “It’s likely the one with the most relevant answers.” 

“So, what do I do?” Hongjoong asked, frowning. Was he supposed to sit there and read it over Seonghwa’s shoulder. 

“You?” Seonghwa asked, a cold brow cocking up. “You’re useless,” He said without mercy. “We’ve kept you because we don’t know your connection to all this, but you’re lucky enough to sit around and wait for us to find an answer- even if it takes until you rot.” 

“No.” 

Seonghwa blinked slowly, expression darkening. “I’m sorry?”

“No,” Hongjoong replied, sharper as his fists clenched. “I’m not going to just sit around while you take your sweet time- Give me something to  _ do.  _ I want to get home, I’m not going to just sit around and wait for you to figure something out.” 

Seonghwa’s head tilted curiously, eyes chilled. “And what use would we have for a whining infant, who can barely look any of us in the eyes without cowering?” 

But rather than retaliate, Hongjoong only felt anger build in his chest, eyes fiery as they glared at Seonghwa. 

Once more, Seonghwa looked as if he hadn’t expected whatever he saw in Hongjoong. 

“I’m  _ going  _ home,” Hongjoong bit out through his teeth. “Even if I have to leave this house and start asking people walking in the streets- I’m not going to just  _ sit here. _ ” 

Because Hongjoong was finding his footing. 

He had cried and wailed all that he could, he had sobbed about how afraid and scared he was. And he was exactly where he had been before all that happened. 

So now he was tired of this place, and he was ready to start doing something that would actually help him  _ leave.  _

He was tired of these people. He wanted his friends back. And he wasn't going to just twiddle his thumbs waiting for these people to share what they knew. 

Hongjoong was the sort of person who sobbed in his bed until his alarm went off at 6PM and then he dragged himself back together to finish his homework. 

Seonghwa taught him that sort of time management. 

“You aren’t him.” 

Hongjoong had honestly forgotten about Wooyoung’s presence, and he turned quickly at the bitter statement, cold eyes glaring at him, almost accusational. 

“What?” he demanded weakly. 

“You  _ aren’t  _ him,” Wooyoung snapped sharply, eyes blazing. “So stop acting like it.” 

“Who?” he stressed, frowning in bewilderment. “ _ Your  _ Hongjoong? I’m not acting like anybody-” 

“Enough,” Seonghwa’s calm voice broke through. “Wooyoung-” 

“Do we  _ have  _ to keep him around?” Wooyoung demanded, looking beyond Hongjoong as if he weren’t there, expression stormy. “I can’t even stand to  _ look  _ at him.” 

“Then turn away,” Seonghwa replied, just as smoothly, making Hongjoong honestly stare in shock. 

He had expected Seonghwa to tell Wooyoung to lock him back up, if he didn't want to look at him. 

And then Seonghwa’s cold eyes were focusing back on Hongjoong. 

“I’m not useless,” Hongjoong burst firmly, fists clenching. “Maybe I don’t know shit about this world, but I know how to research.” 

This wasn’t exactly his art history class, but that wasn’t the point. 

Seonghwa’s expression didn’t shift as he glared at Hongjoong. “Regardless,” He said slowly. “You have nothing you can help with at this time.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened. “Then what do you expect me to do?” he demanded quietly. “Just stay in that stupid room?” 

“That is likely the best place for you,” Seonghwa muttered, looking at the long line of papers on the table. “But as long as you stay out of our way, do whatever your weak little heart desires.” 

“Seonghwa!”

“Does he  _ look  _ as if he could do any damage, even if he did get into something?” Seonghwa retorted sharply, his glare daring Wooyoung to try another outburst. “Assign someone to watch him if you’re concerned. But I have work to do- just keep him out of Yunho and San’s way.” 

Seonghwa swept around the other side of the table, sitting back in his spot with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

Hongjoong waited for Wooyoung to fight it, but there was just a quiet, harsh sigh as Wooyoung turned, pushing Hongjoong back out the door. He slammed it shut, eyes like molten glass. 

“I’m not watching you,” He snapped, his fingers caught in Hongjoong’s shirt as he dragged him along. 

Hongjoong tried to fight, to snap at him- but he remained silent, gritting his teeth as he was dragged through rooms. 

They broke into what looked like some sort of sitting area- a sofa and coffee table before a fireplace that was boarded up. 

“ _ Yeosang,  _ watch him,” Wooyoung scoffed, tossing Hongjoong forward. He stumbled, catching himself and staring around the empty room- 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone look up, and he jerked towards it. He hadn’t even seen the silent figure sitting on the floor- a book open in their laps. 

His mask was pulled up, and his lifeless eyes simply stared at Wooyoung. 

“I don’t care,” Wooyoung said in annoyance, as if Yeosang had spoken. “I’m going to wind up killing him if I have to keep looking at him- just keep him the fuck out of people’s way.” 

Wooyoung turned on his heel, storming from the room, leaving Hongjoong to stand there. 

He swallowed, glancing around the bare room, then back at Yeosang who was staring at him, soulless as if he was nothing more than a shell. 

It was unsettling, compared to the Yeosang he knew that was always warm and cute- bouncing between their friends to ask for snacks. 

“Wh-What do I do?” Hongjoong asked, glancing around. “Should I-” 

Yeosang dropped his eyes back down to the book in his hands, completely ignoring Hongjoong’s presence. He pressed his lips together in annoyance, but swallowed it down. 

He didn’t know why Yeosang was sitting on the floor, when there was a completely open couch there, but he shifted towards it. “I’m gonna sit,” He said, warning Yeosang who didn’t even glance at him. 

Hongjoong figured there was no way of knowing who was going to kill him for what until he acted. So he walked to the couch and sat heavily on it. 

A cloud of dust rose up from the cushions, making him cough harshly, eyes watering as he waved a hand to clear it. The fabric was stiff beneath him, as if no one had sat here in a long time. 

“Do you not use this?” he asked through the tickles in his throat. “Why are you on the floor?”

Yeosang turned a page silently. 

Hongjoong huffed, glancing around. There was nothing to occupy himself with. But, he supposed, it was better than that room he had been locked in. Sighing, he leaned back on the couch, sucking in a breath that was full of cold air and dust. 

He frowned. 

Hongjoong glanced around the room and its plaster walls slowly, dragging over spots and patches of discoloration, until his eyes landed on a darker patch of wall, a few feet off the ground- it looked like just a rectangle of cement. 

About where a window would be. 

He looked at the fireplace with its boards in place. And between the gaps, he could see more cement blocking the entrance entirely.

If he hadn’t been hallucinating… the world outside these walls was burning. There were no windows that he had seen- and everything was lit by small electric lights or gas lamps on the walls. 

But Hongjoong could feel a cool draft, and the air was almost chilled. 

He frowned as he looked up at the ceiling. It was bare, but cobwebby. Save for a little area over in the corner- a vent, colored the same tone of paint as the ceiling. 

Did they have their own air supply or something? Some sort of recycling system? Like on a spaceship? There was no way they were breathing in those black clouds he had seen outside. 

Hongjoong glanced out of the door he had been brought through, his mind going back to that image of hell he had seen. 

The grass had been burnt black. The trees had been nothing but sticks, burning like a match. The shrubbery on the ground had been smouldering- the sky a burnt, fiery orange with black clouds that seemed poisonous. 

The clothes they wore... The masks… He supposed it might be protection. 

Looking at a world that was so destroyed… Like those futuristic movies he never liked watching because they just made him depressed. 

Something about it… was heartbreaking. 

“Yeosang,” Hongjoong said quietly, staring at the little area that might have once been a window, but was now closed off. “Why… is the world burning?”

Hongjoong didn’t expect an answer as he tried to wonder if it was something like global warming- 

“Because they destroyed it.” 

Hongjoong whipped around at the deep, quiet voice, but Yeosang wasn’t looking at him, his eyes still glued purposefully on his book. He turned a page slowly. 

“Who did?” Hongjoong asked in gentle apprehension. 

There was another long pause that made Hongjoong think he was being ignored again. He almost turned away. 

“Capital,” came the quiet response at length. Short and dark, as if the word was almost a curse. 

Hongjoong felt something in his stomach clench. “What did they do to it?” he whispered, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

Everything was so dark here. So hopeless. How did these people  _ stand it?  _

No reply came, Yeosang simply turning a page once more. Hongjoong leaned back on the couch, drawing his legs up. 

Capital… 

The journals had spoken at length about it. These people would break into it, wouldn’t they? Stealing things and tracking people down… 

Capital captured these people sometimes. 

Their Hongjoong had always tried to get them back. 

Were they a terrorist group? Speaking about Capital so bitterly? 

Or… was Capital the bad guy? These people certainly did not seem like the good guys. With that man Yunho was leading to God knew where- 

That person from the journal that Hongjoong had written had died during questioning… it didn’t sound good. 

Hongjoong glanced at Yeosang, mostly trying not to think about those stupid journals that had gotten him in trouble. 

But was it normal to find terrorist groups that had such a close bond, like these people obviously did? 

“Are you the good guys?” Hongjoong asked, sounding so ignorant. “You say Capital destroyed the world- but did they actually do something bad? Or are you just made enough to blame them?” 

The potential terrorist group was the only source of info Hongjoong had, so he might as well use it. 

Despite how it was almost a taunt, Yeosng said nothing. Simply turned another page. 

Hongjoong was getting sick of being ignored, but he didn’t necessarily want these people’s attention on him. 

Seonghwa’s expression when he had caught Hongjoong with the journals had been terrifying. 

_ Seonghwa has been missing for 4 days now. All our time is occupied on tracking him down.  _

_ Those bastards will choke on the blood of their wretched children.  _

_ Seonghwa was recovered from the Black Room.  _

_ Seonghwa will not speak about his experience, attempting to brush it off, but I know that something haunts him.  _

The Black Room… In Capital? It sounded ominous- like the kind of place that the government didn’t want you to know they used. 

Their Hongjoong had been in it, too, right? Hadn’t they rescued Wooyoung from it… Was it a prison? 

Could any of those people in Capital… help Hongjoong get out of here? Or would they be worse than the people here who at least kept him around as someone to glare at? 

Hongjoong stared at the stained wood of the coffee table heavily. “What’s the Black Room?” he questioned curiously, expecting to be ignored again. 

There was a dull thud, and Hongjoong’s head whipped over to find the book slipped from Yeosang’s grip- 

For the first time, his expression was not soulless- but his eyes held something almost like fear as they stared at Hongjoong. 

“Where did you hear that word?” Yeosang whispered, as if a chill had just passed through the room. 

Hongjoong sat up straighter, surprised by the reaction. “I-In the journals I read. Seonghwa was in it, wasn’t he? Wooyoung and your Hong-” 

Hongjoong glanced away, back at the table, and that was a mistake. 

A hand suddenly shoved him back onto the couch- nearly crushing his shoulder beneath his palm as a knife was suddenly pressing to his throat. 

Hongjoong cried out weakly as his shoulder throbbed and Yeosang’s eyes hovered inches above his own- 

They weren’t scared  _ or  _ apathetic anymore. 

They were angry. 

“You  _ are  _ from Capital,” he hissed, the blade pressing close enough that Hongjong felt it slicing through skin- 

“ _ No, _ ” He squeaked, too afraid to speak and risk moving against the blade, blood already racing, each throb of his pulse seeming to bring him closer to the blade. “ _ No,  _ I- I don’t know what it is, that’s why I ask-” 

He choked off as the blade pressed harder, and he definitely felt blood being drawn. 

“You’re a spy,” he hissed, voice burning with rage. “ _ What did you do with our lead- _ ” 

“Yeosang!” 

Hands appeared, yanking Yeosang away, and Hongjoong choked on relief as he sat up, a hand coming up to his neck- His fingers came away red, but it didn’t seem like a deep cut. 

Across the room, Jongho had Yeosang shoved against the wall- one hand shoved against his chest and the other twisting his hand until it dropped the knife that fell- sticking in the floorboards. 

“What the hell is going on?” San demanded, entering rapidly behind Jongho- eyes flickering from Yeosang to Hongjoong. 

“He’s from Capital!” Yeosang snarled- not fighting Jongho, but struggling under his grip. “He knew about the Black Room, he read Hongjoong’s logs-” 

“I didn’t!” Hongjoong choked out, pressing against the cut on his neck to stem the blood. “I- I did read the journals in the room I was in,” he admitted quickly. “But I didn’t know what they were! I was just trying to figure out more about where the hell I was!” 

San’s eyes almost stung as much as the cut. “What do you know about the Black Room?” he demanded through stiff lips. 

“Nothing!” Hongjoong fought desperately. “I read it, like, twice in the journals! All it said was that some of you had been in there- I didn't know what it was! That’s why I asked!” 

“Why would you ask about that specifically?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously, making Hongjoong flounder. 

“I don’t  _ know-  _ He mentioned that Seonghwa was taken into it, but that it messed him up- I’m just trying to figure out who the real bad guys are!” 

San’s suspicion melted into something darker. He held Hongjoong’s gaze long enough for Hongjoong he realize he was holding his breath. 

When he glanced away, Hongjoong finally breathed. 

“He’s not from Capital, Yeosang,” San said firmly, turning to stare at the other firmly. “He’s just an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

Yeosang’s eyes continued to lock onto Hongjoong, as if he could force him to confess. Jongho glared at Yeosang. “Leave him,” Jongho told him darkly. “Even if he was from Capital, you can’t kill him without Seongwha’s orders.” 

“It’s different when Hongjoong is involved- you know it always is,” Yeosang hissed, glaring at Jongho. 

“Not in this case,” San said firmly. “Leave it, Yeosang. Go find Wooyoung or something.” 

There was a split moment where it looked like Yeosang might shove Jongho away, but his shoulders finally fell, even if his expression lost none of its hostility. 

Jongho pulled away from him carefully, watching him warily. 

Yeosang threw one more twisted glare at Hongjoong, walking off- 

Jongho caught Yeosang by the arm, eyes hard like diamonds. “We’ll get him back,” Jongho said quietly- clearly not intending for Hongjoong to hear. “You can’t doubt him.” 

Hongjoong expected Yeosang to jerk away and storm off. 

But, like a switch, the anger left as Yeosang nodded slowly, leaving Yeosang looking blank and soulless once more. It didn’t look like losing hope, though. 

It almost looked like gaining control again. 

Yeosang left silently, San turning sharp eyes onto Hongjoong. “Stop causing trouble,” he warned. 

“I’m not doing anything!” Hongjoong burst. “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on!”

“Well, if you want conversation, you should have never gone to Yeosang to begin with,” Jongho muttered, exchanging a look with San. 

“I just want to know which side I’m being held by,” Hongjoong fought. His fingertips pressed into the starchy fabric of the sofa. “You act like a terrorist group- but you talk about the Capital like they’re bad- Yeosang said they destroyed the world. I just want to know  _ what happened. _ ” 

Hongjoong just didn’t know who he should truly be afraid of. But the slowly clotting blood on his throat was making this side a strong contender. 

“Terrorist group,” San scoffed, shaking his head bitterly. “Yeah, that sounds like something Capital might try to call us.” 

“So you are?” Hongjoong demanded. 

“We aren’t anything,” Jongho said darkly. “We’re under no organization, and we follow no one’s rules.” 

“Except your leaders,” Hongjoong said- perhaps a bit too shortly. 

Jongho jerked forward- San stopping him with a sharp hand on his chest. “You should be more careful about the things you choose to be brave enough to talk about,” San warned, eyes flashing. 

“How the  _ hell  _ am I supposed to know what’s taboo?” Hongjoong demanded desperately, throwing his hands up. “I’m not trying to piss anyone off- but apparently you can’t talk about anything without someone threatening to kill you!” 

“Don’t expect sympathy from us,” San said dryly. 

“I want to get  _ out  _ of here,” Hongjoong snapped. “I want to  _ leave-  _ as much as you want me gone. But I can’t figure anything out if you won’t fucking talk to me about what the hell  _ here  _ is!”

Jongho scoffed, rolling his eyes. “We’d do better to actively sabotage our leader’s return than get your help.” 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together to keep from screaming. “You-” 

“San! Jongho!” 

Hongjoong jumped, turning to the door- 

Seonghwa appeared- covered with his mask up and a low brim hat pulled over his eyes. Hongjoong’s eyes also widened as he saw a thin sword strapped at his side- almost like a fencing sword, but with a flatter blade. 

“It’s happening now!” Seonghwa barked- disappearing without another word. 

Hongjoong turned back to ask what that meant, but San and Jongho were already running after him, drawing their masks from around their necks up to their mouths. 

“Wait!” Hongjoong yelled. 

They disappeared from the room, and Hongjoong’s feet hesitated for a moment too long before running after them. 

“Wooyoung, now!” Yunho’s voice yelled distantly in the house, the sound of pounding feet echoing through the halls. 

There was the sound of a door being slammed, distantly, and Hongjoong ran towards it. Where were they going? 

Were they going to fight? Raid Capital, like they kept talking about? 

Hongjoong reached the entrance hall- whipping around to try and locate where they had gone. His eyes fell on the front door, lips pressing together stiffly. 

He didn’t want to see that world burning again. 

But curiosity, idiocy, anxiety- something made him move towards it. His hand wrapped around the knob, hesitating for only a moment longer, his expression pinching as he tugged it open. 

Once more, he was blasted with waves of heat as he stared out of the door. 

Not quite so many things were on fire- just a world of burnt soot and smouldering fires in the distance. 

The sky was darker with thick clouds of pitch, and Hongjoong took a moment to simply stare at such a barren, ruined world… 

Where did the others go?

Once again, something dragged him forward as he looked around in horror. The air smelled acridic, making his tongue curling his mouth, but Hongjoong walked all the way until the edge of the porch- standing on the edge and staring out as the heatwave was strong enough to ruffle his hair. 

He coughed weakly against the sour air, still staring- something in him frozen in place. 

Everything was dead. How could anyone do this? How could a single organization do this? How could they possibly  _ only  _ blame Capital for something that looked like the end of the world?

He stumbled down one of the steps- the hot wood making him wince, but he continued to scan the area. 

He saw no sign of Seonghwa or the others. 

He coughed again, trying to suck in a breath that stuck in his throat. Why would they be out here? 

Why was there nothing out here but death? His skin felt too tight, his lungs feeling like they weighed a hundred pounds. It was dry and hot, making his lips crack. 

Was it that hard to breathe out here? He coughed harder. 

_ “What the hell are you thinking? Going outside without your mask?”  _

Hongjoong snapped back to his senses as he tried to hack into his hand but could only wheeze weakly. He straightened suddenly, turning to race back up the steps- 

His bare foot caught on the edge of the step, and he fell, sprawled on the porch roughly as he coughed again and again- 

He tried to get his arms beneath him as his lungs seemed to grow tighter and tighter- his body so focused on hacking and drawing in wheezing breaths that seemed to stick to his lungs, he could barely support his own weight- 

Panic did not help him remain coherent. 

His arms gave out before he had even got to his knees, his body hitting the porch heavily as he stared at the splintering wood- 

Hongjoong had never had an asthma attack, but he thought that this was what it must feel like. Like even though there was air entering his lungs, it wasn’t doing anything but choking him faster- 

Fear began to root as Hongjoong tried to pull himself towards the door, the rough wood tugging at his shirt as it dragged under him, his vision growing spotty around the edges. 

He breathed shallowly- hoping that smaller wheezes might help, but it only made the darkness grow faster as his hands trembled uselessly- unable to even tug him along. 

Hongjoong closed his eyes tightly, chest convulsing as his lungs begged for air. His fingertips dug into the wood, silently begging for someone to come-

He lost track of time, unable to do anything but scream in fear in his mind as his chest ached and burned with begging cries for air that didn’t exist. 

He couldn’t even gather enough breath to whimper for help. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong had not moved for hours. The ticking clock on the wall told him as much. 

He had not lost focus. His mind raced a million different directions- leaping over conclusions, thinking back to that book he had only read once. 

He wracked his brains for any sort of memory of any passage. 

Someone who didn’t know him might have thought that he was sitting at the window to marvel at the pretty scenery. 

And while Hongjoong’s eyes may have never wavered from the green leaf he stared at, he was by no means mindlessly marveling. 

There was just so much green… so much of it bursting even through this single window that faced nothing but grass and a few trees. 

Hongjoong could only remember vague photos and worn down paintings of what the world used to look like… filled with so many colors other than burning and ash. 

Aside from that, he could only recall vague images of what that stupid book had been talking about. 

Something about multiple worlds. All existing in their own timeline and with their own events. Their own version of reality. 

There might be other versions of ourselves… and there may not. Your existence was dependant on whether or not your parents met at the right time and place within that universe. 

Hongjoong knew that there was clearly a Hongjoong in this universe. However, it was clear that their experiences must be alarmingly different. 

Leading a frat house. Green grass and clean air. 

_ Boyfriend.  _

Hongjoong shoved that word away because it held no use here- the thought of it making his stomach roll and his blood heat. 

However, even hours later, Hongjoong found himself with no clear memory of whether the man had addressed how to cross the worlds in any feasible manner. 

The author had talked about tearing space, Hongjoong remembered. Magic (which didn’t exist) and hooking people up to machines to force them into their other bodies. 

Well, Hongjoong still had his body exactly as it had been. 

Silently, he dropped his eyes to his arm, jaw tightening as he drew his sleeve back to reveal the skin. 

On the inside of his wrist, there was a dark mark- a tattoo in the shape of a chain with eight links. Hongjoong’s eyes darkened as he stared at it- resisting the sometimes common urge to touch it. 

He shoved his sleeve back down, staring around the room. 

It was almost sickeningly bright from the light from the window- but the entire color scheme was enough to make him squint. 

Half the items in the room (blankets, calendars, papers) seemed to be some shade of pastel and white and grey. The other were electric colors the likes of which Hongjoong had never seen (clothing, more blankets, large stretches of canvas). 

Hongjoong stood as a bright flash of electric purple caught his attention, pushed between the desk and the wall. 

He was getting nowhere. 

He strode over quietly, his boots silent against the off-white rug on the ground. 

He grabbed the corner of a canvas- almost as large as his chest. He hadn’t seen pieces of art this big… since the halls of Capital. He dragged critical eyes over what looked to be nothing more than random strokes of purple, green, and dark blue in waves in the sky over a scenic mountain. 

He glanced at the back and found three words written on the wood of the canvas. 

_ Kim Hongjoong, Aurora. _

He painted this?

What a useless waste of time. He put it back, lifting eyes to the desk for the first time. The left corner of it was neatly arranged with books and pencils. The rest of it was a mess of papers and pencils scattered across every part of it. 

What looked like sketches- half finished and never more than random parts of a body or scene. An eye here, a basic body there. A house, a hill, a skyscraper. 

There was something uncanny about the appearances- almost lifelike. It only make Hongjoong scoff again as he turned away. 

A useless waste of time and effort. 

There was a gentle knock on the door, making him pause as he turned to it sharply. 

A short pause. “Hongjoong?” Seonghwa’s voice called- in that soft tone he wished to never hear again. “Are you hungry?”

It wasn’t until the words were uttered that Hongjoong felt his stomach twist in a desperate attempt to communicate. 

He’d probably gone more than a day without eating at this point, hadn’t he? 

But he clenched a fist as he strode over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open halfway. “What?” he demanded. 

Seonghwa stood there- expression taut and uneven. “I asked if you were hungry,” He said stiffly- as if they were nothing more than business partners. Or, it might seem that way, if he could lose that gentle tone. “We have food.” 

“Why would I trust myself to consume anything you gave me?” Hongjoong questioned expectantly. 

“What did we agree?” Seonghwa asked quietly. “We have no reason to try and hurt you.” 

Hongjoong wanted to scoff at that, but his traitor of a stomach suddenly gurgled, his fists clenching as Seonghwa glanced down at it. 

“You’re hungry,” he said sympathetically. “Come out- we had a few things delivered.” 

Hongjoong opened his mouth to refuse- he would starve a little longer. 

Seonghwa sighed in tired frustration. “You need to eat,” he said, eyes almost pleading. “Just come get something. Don’t be difficult- it’s just food.” 

His Seonghwa nagged him to eat… Hongjoong wanted to roll his eyes in memory. It used to be decided more forceful (a bowl thrust into his hands and a warning glare when he would dismiss Seonghwa for five more minutes of work). 

This gentle prompting and warm concern… Hongjoong’s teeth ground together as he weighed his options. 

Suddenly, staying in this room seemed cowardly, as if he was afraid of the people he could hear chattering down the hall. His nails dug into his palm. 

“Fine,” he muttered, almost scoffing at the relieved expression on Seonghwa’s face. 

Seonghwa, thankfully, said nothing else, simply leading him down the hall and into the kitchen they had tied him up in earlier. 

Around the table, the six of them sat- a spread of food before them as they talked with plates in their hands. 

The only one not conversing was Yeosang- seated on a corner with a notebook open in front of him- one hand holding a piece of food and the other writing carefully. 

“You’re only going to hate yourself later when you get pizza grease on the page,” Wooyoung said around a mouthful of food. 

“Not if I’m careful,” Yeosang responded distractedly. 

“You shouldn’t have waited until the last second,” Sand said with a shrug. 

Yeosang sighed quietly. “Well, I planned to do it earlier, but then we had a crazy person in our-” 

He glanced up as he spoke, eyes falling on Hongjoong walking behind Seonghwa- and his mouth clicked shut as his eyes widened slightly. Part of Hongjoong felt satisfied by such a reaction. 

At least, he might have if it was anyone else but someone wearing the face of his team. 

“You can sit on the end with me,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to two empty chairs between Yunho and Jongho. 

Both men watched him warily as Hongjoong sat- shoving his chair back a bit so he wasn’t quite so close to them. 

The food in front of him was foriegn, as were the scents assaulting his nose. 

“It’s chicken,” He heard Wooyoung’s sarcastic voice as he watched Hongjoong stare. “You know, those things that bob around and say ‘cluck’-” 

“I know what a chicken is,” Hongjoong snapped, prepared to grab the knife sitting beside Wooyoung and end him. 

“It’s fried chicken with a sweet sauce,” Seonghwa explained- less petulant, but still soft and it grated on his ears. “And that’s some sausage pizza. And the side dishes-” he pointed as he spoke. “Just grab whatever you want.” 

Hongjoong made it his business and his skill to never make it look like he was lost. 

It was one that had saved him countless times- a mix of bravery and confidence to throw people off the fact he was running out of time and plans. 

So, Hongjoong grabbed a slice of the pizza without looking at anyone. It was a piece of triangle and it was warm with sausage sitting on top. 

He took a bite after a moment, not wanting to stare at it too long. 

Hongjoong almost spit it back out- the flavor of it so intense, it nearly made him choke. And only after forcing himself to swallow, did he realize it didn’t taste  _ bad _ . It just tasted like nothing he had ever eaten before. 

“Do they have pizza in your world?” San questioned warily, picking up a piece of chicken. 

Hongjoong’s stomach reacted to the small bite of food- asking for more, but he swallowed tensely. “No,” He replied shortly, taking another bite to avoid another question. 

The food didn’t taste bad- in fact, it was probably better food than he had eaten in years- but Hongjoong practically had to choke it down because of the spice and intense flavor. 

“Is it too spicy?” Seonghwa asked. “The chicken is sweet- Yeosang and I can’t handle spice either.” 

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong snapped, the insinuation of weakness making him glare. 

He ate more pizza, and the others conversed quietly- almost like they were trying to ignore his presence- which was fine by him. 

“Are you staying up all night?” San asked Yeosang quietly, though it carried through the rest of the table. “How much more do you need to study?”

Yeosang nodded, still staring at the notebook in front of him. “He assigned three extra chapters for the exam.” 

“That’s some bullshit,” Wooyoung huffed, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s like he wants you guys to fail.” 

Yeosang shrugged wordlessly, frowning at something on the page before scribbling something down. 

“Do you… want help studying?” Yunho offered carefully. Yeosang shook his head, something in his shoulders stiffening. 

“I’m about to skip classes tomorrow, just so I can actually study,” he huffed. 

“Don’t skip,” Seonghwa said from beside Hongjoong firmly. “That never ends well- you have exams in your other classes, too.” 

Yeosang frowned deeper, his fingers curling around the thin pen in his hand tightly. “This was the last thing I needed,” He murmured under his breath. 

It was no secret what “this” was, everyone conveniently not looking at Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong didn’t exactly know what they were referring to around it, but a sharp snap was on the tip of his tongue- a sarcastic apology that he hadn’t meant to disturb whatever useless event his presence was disrupting. 

But… Seonghwa beat him to it. 

“It’s no one’s fault, Yeosang,” Seonghwa said firmly, making Hongjoong glance at his gentle, almost disapproving expression. “No one knows what’s going on-” 

Yeosang suddenly slammed the notebook shut, standing with a weak glare. “I’ll remember that when I’m kicked out,” he said- as if he was attempting to speak sharply, but it just came out soft and bitter. 

He snatched up the notebook and left the room quickly. 

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa called, half-standing, but the distant sound of a door slamming reaching their ears. 

Hongjoong wanted to vomit at such weak displays of anger, glancing at Seonghwa’s expression that was softened with pity- 

“I’ll talk to him,” Wooyoung said, standing and grabbing the container that still held a few pieces of chicken, walking out of the room after Yeosang. 

Hongjoong would have said something snide, but he honestly didn’t know what was going on to say anything against it. 

Instead, he just shoved his plate away as the rest of them glanced at each other in concern. 

“I’m not… super hungry anymore,” San said quietly, staring at his leftover food. 

“He’s not going to get kicked out.” Jongho gripped his silverware. 

“Of course, he won’t,” Seonghwa said calmingly. “We’ll figure something out- but it’s not like he’s going to fail the exam anyway. He’s just worried.” 

Yunho pushed himself back from the table. “I have a quiz to take,” he said heavily- slightly accusing eyes glancing at Hongjoong, as if it was his fault he had this quiz. 

Seonghwa hummed, wishing him luck as he left. 

“Let’s just clean up,” Jongho muttered, standing and grabbing his plate. 

Hongjoong didn’t move as they gathered the leftover food and empty boxes, tossing them in the trash across the room. 

“He really won’t, right, hyung?” San asked under his breath to Seonghwa. “Like- even if he does fail the exam- he wouldn’t get… We could figure something out?” 

Seonghwa’s hands paused where they were rinsing the dishes, his lips pressing together tightly with eyes that were… perhaps darker than Hongjoong had seen on him before. 

In the  _ barest  _ sense, it was almost like looking at the real Seonghwa- when a raid was destined to fail and he was trying to explain that to the others. 

“He won’t,” Seonghwa said firmly, offering San a tight smile. “Hong-” He choked on the name for a moment. “The real Hongjoong would figure something out. He’d talk to the dean or something.” 

San nodded, accepting the reassurance without hesitation. 

And  _ maybe  _ it could almost seem like his team’s trust- a blind faith, even if you didn’t have hope. Maybe you didn’t think you could win this, but you had to believe that you wouldn’t be let down. 

But this was a much more ignorant, much more childish trust- like a child nodding along to their parents’ stories of where their dead pet was. 

Like a mockery. 

“Are you okay if I…” San glanced pointedly at Hongjoong, and then back to Seonghwa. 

“Go ahead,” Seonghwa assured him, another tight smile hiding his worry. “I’m fine.” 

San nodded- once again with that blind ignorance- and left the room after casting Hongjoong a wary glance. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong were left in the kitchen alone. 

He saw Seonghwa’s shoulders fall slightly at San’s absence. 

He could almost see Seonghwa in him, sickeningly. That drop of appearances the moment the eyes of those depending on you were gone… His Seonghwa was never so grossly emotional, even in those moments, though. 

“What annoyingly pitiful event is causing you this much distress this time?” Hongjoong asked, leaning back in his chair and throwing unamused glares at Seonghwa. 

“What did we say about being difficult?” Seonghwa said, a flash of annoyance that was slowly swallowed up by concern as he stared at his hands that washed. “It’s not like you care- don’t bother asking.” 

“If you think  _ this  _ is being difficult, you’ve yet to face any sort of real hardship,” Hongjoong sneered, sitting back up stiffly. 

And… 

And when Seonghwa looked back up at him, his glare… wasn’t just angry. 

It was hurt. 

Something deep and intense- shining clear in his eyes that tried to only show the bitterness of his annoyance… but it shone through almost more clearly than the fire there. 

“Maybe our world isn’t burning like yours,” Seonghwa said, voice even and… warning?

Was there actually some sort of warning in his voice? Hongjoong could barely believe it. 

“But I’d appreciate it if you stopped making the people here’s lives harder than they already are,” he said lowly. “I told you to stop insulting us and mocking us.” 

Seonghwa spoke as if they had seen their own battles, but Hongjoong could look at any of them and see only whimpering idiots. 

Seonghwa looked down pointedly, scrubbing harder at a dish. “But, if you’re so eager to have more ammo to throw at us,” He said, voice tinged bitter, “then Yeosang is concerned about getting kicked out of the frat.” 

Again, that word that sounded almost like regurgitating something. “A frat,” he repeated shortly. “This place?” He asked, gesturing around. 

Seonghwa paused, taking a deep breath that he released so very slowly before looking up. 

“ _ Our  _ Hongjoong,” he said clearly, as if Hongjoong might confuse the two. “Started a frat. We joined, and became friends. Good friends. But, according to university rules, you have to maintain a certain GPA-” 

Hongjoong must have shown a flash of annoyance at yet another stupid word because Seonghwa sighed again. 

“He has to do well in his classes to a certain extent,” He said patiently. “If Yeosang fails this exam, his GPA will probably get too low for him to be allowed to stay in the frat, and we… do not want that to happen,” he finished softly. “We’re almost family here, we don’t want one of us getting kicked out.” 

Hongjoong was still waiting for the earth-shattering consequence that would warrant the sort of fear he had seen in their eyes. 

“But our Hongjoong wouldn’t let that happen,” Seonghwa said firmly. “He can talk to the dean about just putting him on probation, but… Hongjoong has already tried to pull strings for us a few too many times. If the dean refuses, Yeosang has to leave the frat until he can reapply next semester.” 

Hongjoong… was still waiting. 

He stared at Seonghwa who stared back at him, as if waiting for him to understand how horrible that was. 

Hongjoong scoffed, honest to God almost laughing. “That’s it?” he demanded. “That’s what has your tiny little heads so terrified?” 

Seonghwa’s expression darkened as much as it seemed capable of achieving. “This isn’t  _ your  _ world,” he said angrily. “We don’t have survival and  _ burning  _ and fighting every day to survive- we have school that decides the rest of our lives, and we have the constant expectation that you do well enough to be worth something- and we just have to do our best not to let that pressure break us. The only break we get are the people here, we don’t want to lose someone-” 

“So, in other words, you’ve never actually risked or lost something in your life,” Hongjoong muttered, shaking his head as he stood- done with this stupid exchange of emotions. 

“The stakes in our world are  _ different, _ ” Seonghwa snapped, making Hongjoong pause. “Maybe we aren’t risking our physical lives- but we’re risking our happiness. We’re betting on the fact that a shitty time now will somehow give us a better future- hopefully one we don’t come to resent and hate,” he spat. 

Hongjoong felt anger boil in his stomach as he glared at Seonghwa dangerously- daring him to say another ignorant thing. “Do not talk to me about risking something for a future you’ll come to hate,” he hissed- voice deep with every dark emotion that threatened to snap. 

Seonghwa, against his suspicions, did not back down his glare. “Don’t act like we’re living with silver spoons,” he snapped. “Maybe we aren’t fighting everyday to survive, but we have our own battles.” 

“You’ve never known a  _ battle, _ ” Hongjoong scoffed in disbelief. “Unless you’re going to tell me that leaving this frat will result in Yeosang having his throat slit.” 

He didn’t give Seonghwa another chance to try and convince him that their lives were so difficult. He turned on his heel, striding out of the kitchen with a curse in the back of his throat. 

Mingi practically leapt out of his way as he happened to be coming down the hall that Hongjoong shoved passed him in. 

He did not slam the door of the room- that was much too manic and uncontrolled. But he closed it loudly, locking it firmly as he turned towards the colorful array of items littering the surfaces. 

Hongjoong’s fingers itched to destroy this place. 

To tear down its perfect image in revenge for its mockery of him and his team and everything they had suffered- 

He stopped himself by digging his nails into his palms so hard, it nearly drew blood. Some shred of control that he didn’t know why he was bothering to exercise. 

He took several breaths through his teeth, anger welling in his throat. 

The absolute most enraging part of it was how much of his Seonghwa’s spark he kept seeing in this stupid, weak imposter. 

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa heard the alert through his ear just as he plunged a sword through a man’s chest, tearing it out. 

The perimeter alert was one they had been expecting for a while now- ever since they had suspected Capital of catching wind of part of their plans- but Seonghwa hadn’t expected it so soon. 

His only comfort was that there was no way they could possibly know about Hongjoong. 

Any sort of comfort vanished, though, as the beeping continued through his earpiece, signalling that the air quality of the base had been compromised. 

San kicked a body off of his knife, turning quickly in the direction of the base. “What is that?” he demanded. “Did they mess with our vents?”

“No one slipped by,” Mingi assured Seonghwa drawing his mask further up where it had begun to fall from the fighting. 

Seonghwa stared for another moment. No one here was stupid enough to leave a door open. And it would have taken longer to sabotage their air vents. 

He sprinted back in the direction of the base, breathing through the heavy leather filter of his mask, hearing some of the others follow- the rocks and gravel crunching under their boots. Ash flew past his eyes that had long grown used to the stinging heat as they brushed his skin. 

They were barely a mile out- reaching the house only minutes after the alert began in Seonghwa’s ear. 

Seonghwa felt irritation growing in his chest. Capital had always been less than enthusiastic about their position under their boot. They had been exceedingly…  _ difficult  _ lately. 

Things could not choose a worse time to spiral out of control. 

Even from the end of the drive, Seonghwa saw what was wrong, his body jerking to a stop. 

The front door of the base stood ajar. 

And Hongjoong’s body lay collapsed on the stairs. 

And Seonghwa would curse his stupid,  _ stupid  _ brain for the rest of his life… but he forgot for a moment. 

For a split moment, Seonghwa forgot that this was an imposter. Someone who was a cheap copy he cared nothing for. 

And for a moment, Seonghwa only saw the prone body of his leader laying still as death, with no mask and breathing in the noxious air. 

He ran forward, hearing Yunho and Jongho speaking behind him- demanding to know what was happening. 

“Clear the vents!” Seonghwa barely had the mind to yell as he raced up the steps, grabbing Hongjoong’s body and dragging it forward. 

The air of the base of compromised, but it was better than outside. He heard Yunho and Jongho running around the house to the control for the vents, but he dragged Hongjoong’s lightweight body over the threshold, dropping him to the ground as he slammed the door shut. 

He shoved the body over onto his back- Hongjoong’s pale face staring up at him. 

His chest did not rise or fall with breath, and Seonghwa tore his mask off- not even allowing himself time to realize that this was a fake. 

It wasn’t his leader. 

But Seonghwa still tilted his head back, pressing his lips to Hongjoong’s and breathing firmly, feeling his chest rise with the aid. 

None of them had been stupid enough to leave without a mask in so long- it had been years since Seonghwa or anyone had needed such actions. 

But you never forgot. 

He pressed against Hongjoong’s chest almost frantically, breathing into his lungs and trying not to wonder how long he had been out there. Nor how many breaths it was taking and Hongjoong still was not responding. 

_ It’s not him,  _ he tried to say firmly in his mind. 

But it was too jarring- seeing Hongjoong like this. The thought wasn’t strong enough to be heard over the frantic mantra of  _ Save him, save him, save him, save him- _

_ Do not let him die.  _

Vaguely, he heard the vents roar to life- sucking out the contaminated air and clearing it away. 

_ Save him, save him-  _

Seonghwa’s arms ached, but he barely even felt it, too focused on staring at Hongjoong’s limp body that still wasn’t  _ moving-  _

_ Save him, don’t let him down- _

Seonghwa was breathing heavily and lightheaded by the time Hongjoong coughed violently, gagging and dragging in breaths as he flipped onto his stomach, coughing as if he were trying to rid himself of his lungs. 

Seonghwa sat back on his heels, his hands shaking where they clenched on his knees as Hongjoong nearly vomited, his hands pawing at the rug helplessly as he sucked in breath after wheezing breath. 

Fear left him in a single breath as anger swallowed his mind. 

“ _ You idiot, _ ” he hissed, not even sure if Hongjoong could hear over the sound of his hacking. “You- How could someone be so  _ stupid-  _ You nearly-” 

He could barely speak. 

Could barely even breath as his gloved hands creaked the leather together, shaking. 

Hongjoong dry heaved, each breath sounding more painful than taking in sand, hands and limbs shaking violently against the carpet. 

The door opened and closed quickly as Yunho and Jongho appeared, panting as they stared between the two of them with questioning eyes, asking what to do. 

Seonghwa forced himself to his feet that were startlingly weak, but he stood firm. 

“Take him somewhere else,” he snapped, voice shaking with anger. “I don’t care where- stick him in a room- Just get him out of my sight.” 

Hongjoong still breathed heavily as Jongho and Yunho took him by his arms, pulling him up. Hongjoong’s legs tried to support him- only managing to keep themselves from dragging as they stumbled over each other. 

Seongwha stood in the entrance hall, head bowed and fists trembling as his blood raced. 

For a moment, he hadn’t remembered it wasn’t him. 

And even when he did realize… it was still too much to stare at a face that was his. Too much to see that face- pale and still… and remain inactive. 

Seonghwa cursed darkly, resisting the urge to expel his own self-disgust by punching a wall. 

Seonghwa hadn’t seen Hongjoong’s face like that in years- their leader was too skilled to ever be in such a helpless position. 

But for a horrifying moment, he hadn’t been able to tell the difference between them. 

And Seonghwa cursed that soft-hearted part of himself. The part of him that had felt genuine fear. 

How dare he feel fear. 

_ “Fear means you think we could fail, Seonghwa. Fear means you’ve started to doubt. Never doubt me, understand? Never feel fear.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN!  
> Thank you so much for reading and I’m sorry about ending these chapters in such horrible places lol~  
> I do hope you enjoyed it though, and I hope I can get the next chapter out a bit sooner!  
> Please let me know what you thought about it, and have an amazing day!  
> -SS


	3. Our Flesh Is Your Flesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I got this one out in time!  
> I’m really having so much fun with this one, even if it seems the plot is going nowhere! Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and kudosed last chapter!  
> I hope this one is good! Please let me know if anything is confusing! 
> 
> Please let me know what you all think, and have an amazing day, lovelies~  
> -SS  
> TW: homophobia and homophobic actions

Hongjoong didn’t mean to fall asleep. 

But he woke up to a bright light shining in his eyes- courtesy of that horrible window. That stupid window that just kept reminding Hongjoong that this world had everything… that his world didn’t. 

Hongjoong was used to moving. He was used to planning and plotting- jumping from one task to another with his team behind him. He had never spent so much time sitting in one place, and it felt like physical teeth gnawing at his insides. 

He stood, striding to the door and pulling it open without thought, walking purposefully into the hall. 

This house was significantly smaller than the base- less places to be useful, less places to go to when his mind was racing so fast, it made him sick. 

This place was suddenly unbearably suffocating. 

There was no Seonghwa to draw him back- pinning him down like a balloon on a string, not letting him float off- 

Well. No Seonghwa, save for the one that Hongjoong walked in on sleeping on the couch in the living room. 

Whether it was his presence or his footsteps, Seonghwa groaned- rolling slightly and opening his eyes. 

Sleep-heavy, curious eyes stared at Hongjoong for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure he was actually seeing him. 

Seeing Seonghwa like that… 

Hongjoong turned, storming out of the room- tearing open the front door and hurrying down the steps with his eyes hooded. 

The sunlight was blinding, but he kept walking- the sound of engines and roaring cars growing louder as he tried to shield himself from the sun that was a hundred times brighter than their dreary excuse for a star-

“ _ Hongjoong! _ ” 

A hand yanked him back, Hongjoong turning to break Soenghwa’s arm because it wasn’t  _ him-  _ how  _ dare  _ he say his name like that- 

Seonghwa stared in panicked horror. “Where are you going?” he demanded. “Where- It’s not safe for you to wander around when you don’t know anything about how this world works!” 

Hongjoong tore his arms from Seonghwa’s grip, glaring murderously. “As if anyone in this world would be a threat- I’ll break their necks if they think-” 

“This isn’t your world!” Seonghwa fought- desperate, trying to keep Hongjoong from walking away. “You might think that killing someone would solve something- but we have  _ laws  _ here. If you hurt someone, the police are going to be called, and they’re  _ going to take you away. _ ” 

Hongjoong would kill them, too. 

“You can walk around,” Seonghwa promised him breathlessly- his face still pink from sleep, probably still delirious with it. “But not alone- I can come with you, if you need to leave and get out-” 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Hongjoong sneered, his hackles raising. 

“Yes, you do,” Seonghwa said fearlessly, rubbing his tired eyes and slowly becoming more focused. “You can’t just go walking out in the streets looking like-” 

His hands gestured helplessly to Hongjoong’s clothing- wrinkled and dark. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes, and Seonghwa sighed helplessly. 

“You look like you’re about to walk into some sort of club- and not the reputable kind,” he said, as if he had been holding that in for a while. “We can get you some regular clothes, and we can go somewhere- just… don’t do anything that’s going to get you taken away,” he begged. 

Everything in Hongjoong was telling him to fight. 

_ What did we say about being difficult?  _

Hongjoong had no place to begin looking for answers. He had no person here even close to competent enough to help him. He had no allies and no- 

“Please,” Seonghwa said quietly, expression pinching. 

It was all so wrong. 

And maybe that was why Hongjoong complied- scoffing and shaking his head and storming back into the house. 

Because it was all wrong. And if going along with it would stop Seonghwa from making those faces- those stupid, heartbroken, begging, concerned, pitying expressions that had no right to be one someone so strong’s face- then he could swallow the anger for now. 

Hongjoong was handed light blue pants of a rougher material, a soft-green shirt, and a large hooded jacket that was a strong blue color. 

“These look ridiculous,” Hongjoong snapped, holding their soft, useless-for-protection materials. 

Seonghwa looked at him distastefully. “Well, those are the plainest clothes he has. Everything else is either flamboyant or electric colors, and I figured you’d hate that more. You can keep your boots- they’ll go fine with the outfit.” 

Hongjoong swallowed a curse as Seonghwa left him to change (Seonghwa half-glanced back at him, as if trying to say something, but he left without a word). 

He carefully removed the jacket, folding it and his shirt, laying them on the bed. He didn’t have his hat, gloves, or mask- and he had thought that was most exposed he had never felt. 

But then he pulled on these clothes that felt like a simple scratch would tear right through them. How did these people even survive this long? 

Seonghwa was back in the living room, dressed, when Hongjoong exited- feeling like a monkey in a circus. Dressed up and playing a part he despised. 

Seonghwa glanced up from a phone in his hand, his expression reserved- 

He watched as Seonghwa’s expression dropped- going pale as he stood quickly- 

His face melted, suddenly remembered himself, his expression falling painfully. “Right,” He said quietly, turning away. “I- I forgot that quickly that you were getting changed.” He shoved the phone in his pocket. “You…  _ really _ look just like him,” He whispered hoarsely, shaking his head roughly. “Aside from the hair…” 

Hongjoong wanted to tear the clothes off even more. But he simply clenched his fists. “If you’re going to be tailing me, let’s go,” he said roughly, already walking out the door. 

He heard Seonghwa following him- his footsteps light and without any of the power his Seonghwa’s steps held. No confidence. No purpose. 

“Go left,” Seonghwa said when they reached a sidewalk beside the road leading away from the house. “The other way just leads to a roundabout.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, but followed his direction. They turned onto a larger street- out of the neighborhood, and Hongjoong stopped. 

There were so many people. 

So many people in one place- running around and chatting and laughing. They wore a myriad of colors- some like his own, and some even more useless and revealing. 

“What?” Seonghwa asked, frowning as he scanned the area. 

Hongjoong shoved aside his shock, striding forward hurriedly. “Nothing,” He muttered. “Too many people.” 

“It’s always crowded on campus,” Seonghwa explained. “A lot of students live on, or just off of campus like we do.” 

Hongjoong wasn’t listening- suppressing the urge to look around at all the things happening. This world was so active and  _ loud.  _

Seonghwa suddenly took his arm, pulling him to the side, making Hongjoong ready to fucking burst- 

“Sorry,” Seonghwa apologized to a person who had nearly run into Hongjoong, staring at them in annoyed confusion. “You have to watch where you’re going,” He warned with a sigh. 

“Maybe she should have moved out of my way,” Hongjoong spat. 

“You have to be polite,” Seonghwa pressed. “Just make their lives a little easier-” 

“It seems like their lives are easy enough,” he muttered darkly, speeding up, forcing Seonghwa to walk faster. 

There was no retort for that one as they reached the end of the street. The sidewalk continued on into a courtyard of some kind, and Hongjoong continued to follow it. 

There was nothing useful in this world. Nothing to even hint at what the hell he was supposed to do. 

What had that book said about crossing worlds-” 

“I have… a favor to ask you,” Seonghwa said quietly. Hongjoong didn’t look over- not wanting to see whatever expression he chose to don. “And… I’m prepared to beg or offer you whatever it takes to have you agree.” 

That… did make Hongjoong glance over. 

Seonghwa did not beg. Not unless things were terribly wrong. (Usually, concerning Hongjoong.) 

Seonghwa stared at the ground as they walked, expression tight and ready for rejection. 

Hongjoong’s expression hardened. “I won’t explain to you again the fact that I can’t bring your  _ precious  _ Hongjoong back-” 

“It’s not that,” Seonghwa assured him, jaw tightening. “I need you… to attend Hongjoong’s classes.” 

Hongjoong stopped walking, ignoring the people who went around him, huffing in annoyance. 

Classes. As in school. 

As in, this place they were at now?

“No,” Hongjoong immediately snapped. 

“Please,” Seonghwa said quietly, looking at Hongjoong with a pleading expression. “You don’t even have to stay the whole time- just sign the attendance and leave. I’ll take care of his assignments-” 

“ _ No _ ,” Hongjoong repeated, glaring. “I’m not wasting time sitting among these idiots- I actually plan to work on finding a way out of this place-” 

“ _ Please _ ,” Seonghwa pressed, becoming more desperate but remaining quiet. “Please, Hongjoong- it’s not  _ his  _ fault that this happened, he can’t miss classes like this. We don’t know how long this is going to take- it’ll only be a few hours out of the day-” 

“A few hours I plan on using for actually productive things.” 

“He  _ needs  _ to stay in the art program- he’ll get kicked out if he misses too many classes,” Seonghwa fought, trying to get angry and failing. Pathetic. “You can’t just ruin his life while you’re here-” 

“Why not?” Hongjoong replied coldly. “He’s already ruined mine by sending me here.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth clicked shut as his expression stiffened. “I never thought you’d be one to act on petty grudges and dramatics. Please- all you have to do is sign the sheet.” 

“Then you sign it,” Hongjoong spat. 

“His teachers know him,” Seonghwa fought. “Hongjoong-” 

“No,” he hissed. 

A hand suddenly gripped his arm- firm and stiff and desperate. And Hongjoong would have shoved it off without a thought… if it didn’t feel so real for a moment. 

It made Hongjoong’s tongue stick to his teeth, the sensation of Seonghwa grabbed him, forcing him to listen, one that was so familiar-

“I’m begging you, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly, eyes shattered and misty. “If you care  _ anything  _ for your own Seonghwa- I  _ need  _ you to understand the sort of person Hongjoong was to me. I need you to understand why I’m begging you.” 

_ Break his arm,  _ his mind whispered darkly. 

But… there was that flash in Seonghwa’s eyes. That trust. That… belief. As if he knew, in his heart, that Hongjoong might give in. As if he had faith… that he would. 

It wasn’t him, Hongjoong wanted to scream. Stop having his face, stop  _ looking at me like that- _

It wasn’t how his Seonghwa looked at him- still too gentle, too…  _ intimate.  _

But it was just enough… just enough to keep making Hongjoong hesitate. Make his tongue heavy. Make his blood halt in his chest. 

And Seonghwa was begging him. To do it… like he would do it for his own Seonghwa. 

When had Hongjoong ever tried to do something so useless for his own Seonghwa- 

_ “Hongjoong, will you- Nevermind,” came the quick, dark voice.  _

_ “What?” _

_ “Nothing.”  _

_ “It’s not nothing- You’ve never said nothing in your life.”  _

_ “It was a lapse in judgement- just go.”  _

_ “A lapse in judgement is nothing more than what you actually wish to say.”  _

_ “So when you almost tell us to retreat?” _

_ “I would take surrendering over losing one of my team any day. But I know that you all would never forgive me.”  _

_ “Just go, it’s nothing.”  _

_ Hongjoong had seen the way Seonghwa wouldn’t meet his eyes- his own dark orbs haunted in a way that he couldn't seem to shake lately.  _

_ “If you don’t wish to be alone… you just have to ask.”  _

_ “I won’t.”  _

_ “You won’t ask?” Seonghwa had nodded stiffly. Hongjoong had sighed. “Very well, then, I won’t make you.”  _

_ He sat beside Seonghwa at the table in Hall. Seonghwa told him to leave the entire night. Hongjoong didn’t.  _

“Hongjoong.” 

He blinked. This Seonghwa… 

It was almost the same, Hongjoong was loathed to think. This Seonghwa… and the Seonghwa he had seen in those days of Seonghwa’s recovery. 

The recovering-Seonghwa had felt these stupid emotions of fear and weakness. 

(Hongjoong had never called them stupid. Had never thought they were stupid, back then.) 

It was as if he was staring at Seonghwa inside that Black Room. 

“Hongjoong...?” Seonghwa asked again, brow pulling down in concern. “What is it? What’s wron-” 

“Fine,” Hongjoong spat, yanking his arm away like drawing a knife. “If it makes you stop this pathetic begging, then  _ fine. _ ” 

Seonghwa didn’t look relieved or triumphant at seeing him break. He only frowned harder. 

“What’s wrong?” he inquired quietly. “You spaced out for a second. Are you-”

“Shut up,” Hongjoong snapped, beginning his walk again, feeling exposed in these clothes that weren’t familiar or practical-

They walked (Seonghwa following silently) until Seonghwa spoke again, at length. 

“His first class is in half an hour,” Seonghwa said quietly. “It’s a lecture- I can get you to them. You just need to sit, wait for the sheet with all the names on it, and sign your name. Then, you can slip out.” 

Hongjoong resisted the urge to roll his eyes, still speed walking away from Seonghwa. He felt too exposed here, as if Seonghwa might look at him and see his hesitations- his  _ stupid  _ hesitations-

“I have some classes today,” Seonghwa warned him. “I can cut them short, but I might need to be in there for a while. If you’re done in the class, just sit in the hall by the door-” 

“A library,” Hongjoong said sharply, abruptly, glaring at Seonghwa. “Do you have some sort of library?” 

Seonghwa blinked, surprised, but then his eyes cleared with understanding. “Oh, yeah-” He pointed behind them at a tall, white building. “You see that? The bottom three floors are all reference books. When you walk in, there are people there to help you- they can show you certain categories of books.” 

Hongjoong hummed stiffly. Maybe that could at least give him a hint… 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa said, so gentle and sincere. “Really… thank you for putting up with this. Even if you think it’s stupid and a waste of time. Thank you.” 

Hongjoong said nothing, his eyes darkening. 

_ “Thank you… For being there for me.”  _

_ “I’m your leader, it’s my job.”  _

_ “Did you do just because you were my leader?”  _

Back then, Hongjoong hadn’t answered. 

And right now, his steps quickened, as if he might be able to outrun this present that was a mockery of his past. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong stood in a dining hall, his throat and chest on fire, and his expression solemn as he stared from the doorway. 

The seven men gathered around with plates of food and glasses of red drink glanced up. 

And, as if he didn’t already feel bad, Seonghwa refused to lift his eyes from his plate. There was a moment where no one moved or spoke, and Hongjoong’s stomach twisted itself in knots. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his throat shot to hell and back. “I… I didn’t… I didn’t know- I should have realized… I’m sorry.” 

Shame and embarrassment at his own idiocy burned his face and chest, making it nearly impossible to lift his head, but he forced himself to look at them. 

Not a single one of them gave him any sort of pity. Wooyoung rolled his eyes, shoving a plate into the only remaining open seat. 

“Eat, if you’re going to,” he muttered, already brushing past Hongjoong and leaving the room with his plate still half full of food. 

Hongjoong truly believed that sitting down at that table was not going to be the best decision, but he crept forward anyway, sitting in the empty spot carefully. No one looked at him. 

The plate Wooyoung had shoved over had something that looked like oatmeal, a few pieces of dried fruit, and a slice of bread. Not the most appetizing, but Hongjoong had passed out twice, and hadn’t eaten in what felt like days. 

It didn’t have much flavor, but he’d eaten worse on a bet. 

He stared at the cup of dark, red liquid, frowning. “Is this… wine?” he asked, wondering who the hell was drinking wine in the morning. 

“It’s vitamin and mineral water,” Yunho said shortly, not even looking up from his plate. 

And sure enough, when Hongjoong took a hesitant sip, it just tasted like water with an odd aftertaste. 

“Yeosang and I are going to check the storage,” Mingi suddenly said, addressing Seonghwa who simply hummed in understanding. 

“Do you still want Yunho and I to check the perimeters?” Jongho questioned. “I think we took care of them before.” 

“Do it,” Seonghwa said darkly. “They got close- make sure we’re not leaving tracks anywhere.” 

“And the raid?” Yunho asked, voice dropping low. “Are we still supposed to just-” 

“We can’t navigate the compound on our own,” Seonghwa said sharply, looking up at Yunho in warning. “If we don’t have him back by the scheduled date, we have to put it off.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach suddenly threatened to give back everything he’d eaten. 

He probably came at the worst time… 

“We’ll get started,” Jongho said stiffly, standing with his plate. And then he and Yunho were gone. 

Mingi threw a bitter glance at Hongjoong. “We’ll get an early start, too,” he said, both of them standing. 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together as they continued to operate as if he wasn’t there. And God, how Hongjoong wished he wasn’t. 

Seonghwa was silent for a moment before he stood. “I’m going to check the logs of Yunho’s questioning-” 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong broke in before he could leave the table completely. He half-stood, his stomach clenching as Seonghwa froze as stiff as ice. 

His mouth dried up. 

“Thank you,” he said honestly, hoping that maybe… maybe it was worth something. “I’m- I’m sorry I keep getting in the way, I’m sorry I keep fucking up. But… But you haven’t killed me yet. And you could have just let me die… but you didn’t. So… thank you. Really.” 

Seonghwa’s face was half turned away, cold as a winter morning before it locked down silently. 

Seonghwa swept from the room without a word. 

Hongjoong’s heart sank as he sat down slowly, staring at the dark red of his cup. He curled a fist weakly as restlessness settled in his bones. 

“You really don’t know anything.” Hongjoong tensed, forgetting that San was still at the table, even as he stood with an eye roll. 

“Don’t you think I’ve figured that out?” Hongjoong muttered angrily, glancing up darkly. “I’m trying to figure it out, but-” 

“Not even about the world we live in,” San told him cruelly. “You really have no idea about the person you stole the place of, do you?”

“I didn’t  _ steal  _ anything,” Hongjoong snapped weakly, straightening. “I had nothing to do with this-” 

“Maybe not,” San agreed darkly. “But you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. We need our leader  _ now-  _ we’ve always needed him- and we’re now stuck with the most useless, idiotic person to ever exist.” 

“This isn’t my world!” Hongjoong fought. “It’s stupid of you to expect me to understand anything about where I am-” 

“Our leader was resourceful enough to at least survive!” San snapped harshly. “What about that air looked like you should be breathing it in?” 

“I didn’t know it was practically poisonous!” Hongjoong yelled, getting to his feet. “I’m  _ trying,  _ but no one here will stop glaring and threatening me long enough to understand anything , or be of any help!”

“You don’t need to understand anything.” San’s eyes sharpened coldly. “You won’t be here that long,  _ trust me. _ ” He turned on his heel, striding from the room- 

“And if I am?”

He turned back sharply, expression tensing. Hongjoong glared calmly. 

“If I am here that long?” he asked again. “If this is permanent? If I spent the rest of my life stuck with people who tear apart everything my friends ever were? If you spent the rest of your life stuck with this useless copy of your lead-” 

“He  _ will  _ come back,” San hissed, fists clenching threateningly. “He won’t abandon us- he never has. And if you imply that he ever would, I’ll break that glass over your head.” 

And beneath the glare… and anger… and threats… 

Hongjoong saw fear. Small and hidden… but it was there. Nervousness. Anxiety. 

“You’re scared he won’t come back,” Hongjoong said quietly. 

“You don’t-” 

“I know you are,” Hongjoong said firmly, fists clenching. “But guess what?” he hissed. “I’m fucking scared, too.” 

“You’re nothing like us!” San snapped. 

“I’m not,” Hongjoong agreed. “But you’re as human as I am, and you’re all scared- even Seonghwa. You’re afraid he won’t come back-” 

“You-” 

“And I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Hongjoong breathed out, expression pinching. “I’m  _ sorry  _ I’m not who you need- but  _ I’m  _ scared, too. I’m terrified that I’m never going to get back to my friends.  _ My  _ Seonghwa is waiting for me,” he hissed. “They  _ all  _ are- And as much as your Hongjoong won’t abandon you, I can’t abandon them-” 

“We aren’t  _ afraid! _ ” San yelled. “Fear means doubting, and we will  _ never  _ doubt him!”

“Fear doesn’t mean doubt,” Hongjoong said quietly, shaking his head in confusion. “You can trust that he’s trying to get back to you, and you can still be afraid that he won’t-” 

“He won’t abandon us!”

“I’m not saying he will!” Hongjoong said, voice raising. “But I don’t want to abandon my friends either! I want to fight and fucking  _ tear  _ my way out of this place, but I  _ can’t! _ ”

San stared. 

“I can’t!” He pressed, fists clenching. “I don’t know enough about this place or what the hell is happening- and I just want to fight my way out, but I  _ can’t! _ ”

San’s jaw clenched. 

“Maybe I’m weak,” Hongjoong burst. “But it’s not because I’m trying to be- I’m trying to be strong and level headed, but no one here is trying to help me be useful- I don’t even know where the hell to start! Seonghwa won’t even let me help read a fucking book!”

He breathed heavily for a moment, not about to cry, but feeling everything welling up inside of him in a wave of helplessness he was just trying to stay above. 

“A few days ago, my biggest problem was whether I would fail my Art 201 class,” Hongjoong hissed tiredly. “So I’m trying to adjust- but do you honestly think your Hongjoong is having any easier a time-  _ wherever  _ he is?” 

San looked ready to attack Hongjoong. 

But Hongjoong’s expression suddenly dropped as a thought slammed into him. 

Where was their Hongjoong? 

Hongjoong hadn’t stolen his body- he still had his own. So, if there was a physical exchange, where had their Hongjoong’s body gone? Was it in some limbo somewhere? Was he still in this world, but hidden somewhere else? 

Or… was it… an exchange? 

“What if he’s in my world?” Hongjoong breathed, even as San looked ready to burst. 

The rage welling in his eyes deflated slowly as Hongjoong stared at him with wide eyes. 

There were a million movies and comics about this- about two people swapping places. The only movies he could remember were more about aliens and time travel, rather than a different universe, but-

“What if they swapped us?” Hongjoong demanded quickly, eyes widening. “What if I wound up here- and he took  _ my  _ place, in my world!” 

“You think your world took our leader?” San demanded. 

“We didn’t take him,” Hongjoong huffed in annoyance. “But, unless they took me- shoved me in here and just hid your Hongjoong somewhere else- it makes sense that it was just an exchange- Not just grabbing me!” 

San’s lips thinned as his eyes darkened. 

“Though I’m loathed to say it,” Seonghwa’s voice said, making Hongjoong whip around, startled. He stood there with cold eyes and thin lips. “That might have been the first half-intelligent thing you’ve said.” 

Hongjoong stiffened. “Is that how you go through logs?” he asked, petulant and risky. “Standing and listening to conversations?” 

And Hongjoong was surprised… when Seonghwa’s expression didn’t tighten with anger. Instead, it almost looked as if Hongjoong had managed to land a blow- striking him in the gut as his jaw tightened. 

And Hongjoong didn’t feel like he should experience guilt for that… but he did. 

He bit his tongue for a moment as Seonghwa glared. “Did you find nothing in that book you were looking through?” Hongjoong asked. 

Seonghwa’s expression was contemplative, as if he was was meticulously going through everything he had read in the tome. “Most of what he writes about is utterly unbelievable,” he said stiffly. “There are only half-theories and completely made up science, in way of moving between those dimensions.” 

Hongjoong’s lips pressed together tightly. “There’s no- no like, chapters on how the universes connect?” 

He remembered watching that one superhero movie Yunho liked, with a rainbow bridge connecting two worlds. But that had been purposeful- not falling asleep and waking up somewhere else. 

“Not that I’ve read, as of yet,” Seonghwa admitted. “But the writing is dense, and trying to discern absolute fallacy from unlikely probability is time consuming.” 

God, Hongjoong wished he had paid more attention in Lit class. 

“Okay,” he said calmly. “But do you think it’s likely that if I’m here, he’s in my world?”

Hongjoong held his breath, muscles seizing slightly as Seonghwa took a moment to think- eyes looking far away as his lips thinned. 

“Compared to other theories, it seems the most likely,” Seonghwa said darkly. “The book speaks on balance between the universes. He goes on rants about how there must be an even number of universes to keep the scale balanced-” 

He shook his head, as if this was utterly ridiculous. 

“But… if there is even a bit of truth to that… it would make sense that if one Hongjoong was taken from a universe, another would have to be replaced. It would not likely leave a hole.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes suddenly widened as his heart dropped. 

“Would he have hurt them?” he demanded suddenly, taking several steps towards Seonghwa who glared in warning, but Hongjoong stared at him desperately. “Your Hongjoong- if he is in my world- would he have hurt my friends?” 

These version had been aggressive, psychotic, bitter, violent- 

Were his friends okay? Would this Hongjoong hurt them, when he found out what had happened? Would he hurt them without waiting for any sort of explanation?

Hongjoong’s eyes locked onto Seonghwa’s that stared in apathy. “ _ Would he have hurt them? _ ” he demanded, voice rising in volume. 

Would his friends even know what was happening? 

Would they just see him… someone they thought was their friend… He couldn’t think about it- couldn’t think about any of their faces showing that shock- Feeling the betrayal he had felt here. 

He couldn’t think of his own face- twisted like theirs were- and attacking these people he had spent years of his life- 

Seonghwa’s apathy continued. But his jaw tightened the longer Hongjoong refused to glance away. 

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa said lowly. “It’s possible. Not unlikely- but not a guarantee. I suppose it depends on your own world’s reaction to him.”

“As if your world wouldn’t try to attack him first,” San muttered. “Or are they all as weak as you?” 

Hongjoong didn’t rise to the bait. “No,” he said firmly. “No, my friends wouldn’t hurt him.” He turned to San with hardened eyes. “Maybe they’re scared of him, maybe they fought with him- but they wouldn’t hurt him.” 

“And how can you be so sure?” San accused, stepping forward. “You can  _ guarantee  _ us that you wouldn’t see a crazy version of yourself and try to attack?”

“Yes, because we aren’t like  _ you _ !” Hongjoong snapped fiercely. “We don’t go around killing people who don’t belong! We don’t threaten people, just for not knowing what the hell is going on! We have  _ compassion  _ and understanding- we don’t spend our time torturing people for some fucked up organization!” 

It didn’t matter how scared they were- his friends weren’t capable of hurting someone- much less  _ killing  _ them. 

“Our world still has morals and empathy!” Hongjoong snarled. “I’d be more worried about  _ your _ Hongjoong going on a rampage and killing my friends just because they weren’t you!” 

He swore to God, if this psycho version of himself hurt one of them-

“You may find us distasteful and barbaric,” Seonghwa said quietly, making Hongjoong turn to stare heatedly at him. “But Hongjoong is the most resourceful person on this team. And there is a reason he became our leader- he wouldn’t ask rashly. If something happened, it would happen for a reason.”

“So you  _ can’t  _ guarantee me?” Hongjoong’s demanded heatedly. “You can’t promise me that he hasn’t hurt them?” His nails dig into his palm. 

Seonghwa eyes were tight. “Though it’s unlikely, no, I can’t guarantee you that.” 

Hongjoong’s heart clenched with fear and guilt and bitterness at his flippancy.

His blood roared in his ears. 

“If he hurt them,” Hongjoong bit out between his teeth. “If he hurts a  _ single one  _ of them-“

“You’ll what?” San scoffed. “Weep bitterly at us?”

Hongjoong’s whipped around, already flying at San. This was where he drew a line. 

If some twisted version of Hongjoong had hurt his friends, he would never forgive these monsters or himself. 

It didn’t matter if San held a knife at his side, if he was stronger, if he would slam Hongjoong into the wall-

He was mocking the fact that Hongjoong’s friends might be hurt or worse at the hands of one of them-

A sharp grip caught Hongjoong by his arm before he made it more than a few steps towards San who already his knife drawn-

Hongjoong’s whipped back to glare at Seonghwa who held him firmly- but didn’t bruise him like before. 

“Don’t,” Seonghwa warned quietly. 

Hongjoong was about to shove him away- to snap and scream at him that this wasn’t something he was going to let go-

But this ... was perhaps the most human he had seen Seonghwa. 

His eyes were harsh, but not cold or bitter. 

They stared at Hongjoong… as if he was something… like staring through at the past. As if he was merely stopping Hongjoong from doing something stupid… but that he thought Hongjoong was justified. 

His expression was stony. 

“We can’t guarantee their safety,” Seonghwa told him, practically saying it under his breath. “But there’s nothing we can do, either way. You simply have to trust that neither party did anything to incite the other.” 

Hongjoong didn’t want that. He wanted his friends by his side and safe- even if this other Hongjoong hadn’t hurt them, they were probably scared to hell and back. 

His jaw tightened as he jerked his arm away from Seonghwa. He wanted to snap. To walk away and lock himself in that room so that he wouldn’t have to interact with these heartless bastards anymore. 

But he ground his teeth together as he dug crescents into his hand. “What can I do?” he ground out. “To help figure this out- what the hell can I do?” 

He needed to do something. He needed to stop feeling so helpless. 

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong intently- as if he were trying to broadcast something without speaking, but Hongjoong just glared back, not even bothering. 

He and this Seonghwa had no sort of connection. 

But… if he went off of him and  _ his  _ Seonghwa’s connection… he’d almost think he was asking Hongjoong to understand. 

Well, he didn’t. 

Seonghwa finally broke eye contact, turning away Hongjoong quickly. “In the study,” he said, already walking away. “There is a collection of books and tomes. If you’re so anxious to help, go through them and see if any of them might hold something useful.” 

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, feeling as if he was just being given a coloring book to keep him quiet. 

But then, Seonghwa stopped at the door frame, half-turning back with a stoic expression. “If you find anything… report back to me.” And then he was gone. 

But it sounded like he was being serious- like this was something he needed done, and he was assigning it to Hongjoong. 

And maybe it wasn’t, but Hongjoong had nothing else to go on, so he turned around. 

San’s glare had faded, and he continued to stare at Hongjoong stiffly- like he was holding back some sort of curse. Hongjoong didn’t look at him as he brushed past him, walking back towards where he thought the study was- 

“You aren’t him,” San murmured under his breath, and Hongjoong almost snapped something, but it sounded as if the statement wasn’t meant for him. 

It sounded like San was trying to convince himself. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong stood in a doorway that Seonghwa had pointed him out to. 

The building they stood in was clean, white, and cold. Young adults walked back and forth with their bags and phones- computers and friends as they chattered away in the long tiled halls. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa said firmly, earning his attention. “Go in, find a seat. After the class starts, there’s going to be a sheet passed around- just sign in, and then excuse yourself to the bathroom.” 

“You’ve explained it eight times,” Hongjoong said, rolling his eyes and giving Seonghwa an unimpressed stare. “Where will you be?”

“Right here,” Seonghwa said, pointing outside the door. “My class doesn’t start for another forty-five minutes. I’ll show you where the second class you’ll need to attend is and when you’ll need to be there. While you’re waiting for me, you can go to the library.” 

Hongjoong hummed, glancing around inside the room. 

It was filled with enough seats to fit a hundred- a scattering of students around. 

“Sit in the back,” Seonghwa warned. “And don’t make a scene.” He checked his phone. “It starts in five minutes- go on in.” 

Truly, this was the most stupid thing Hongjoong had done in all his years of living. 

But, he said nothing as he stepped into the room. It was nothing like their raids, but Hongjoong still felt like he was in foreign, enemy territory. 

The room was filled with quiet chatter as he took a seat two rows from the back, sitting in a hard, plastic chair with a desk attached. He sat stiffly, tensing as more and more people began to file in- taking seats near or away from him. 

“Hey, Hongjoong!” 

A hand slapped him on the shoulder as a boy walked passed him. 

It took years of being level-headed and in control for Hongjoong not to snatch the wrist and break it. 

A boy with bright eyes waved as he walked down the aisle. “Dude! What the fuck did you do to your hair? That looks sick! Did you start the essay yet?” he asked, walking backwards. 

Hongjoong’s eyes sharpened as his lips pressed together. “... No,” he replied, voice tight and dull. 

The boy grinned. “You look like you’ve had to pull a few all nighters lately,” He chuckled. “Wanna grab lunch after this?” 

Hongjoong knew that just telling the boy to go away would likely not end well. (He did not want to imagine what Seonghwa might do for such an action.) 

So he grit his teeth. “No,” he replied, just as stiff. “I have to go to the library.” 

The boy frowned in disappointment. “That sucks. Do you and Seonghwa wanna double date this weekend? My girlfriend’s university is already on break-” 

“Settle down!” an elderly woman from the front yelled, thankfully making the boy wince and throw Hongjoong a smile as he rushed down to a seat. She must be the teacher. 

Hongjoong was still reeling from the “double-date” that was thrown in his face as the woman began to speak loudly about the homework results. 

Somehow, it only just fully settled on his shoulders- the fact that this Hongjoong and Seonghwa were intimate. 

And it made Hongjoong’s stomach ill at the thought- which he pointedly did not allow to linger. 

“Color theory!” The woman yelled. “A definition- anyone?” Silence. “The final is on Tuesday- did none of you reread your chapters?” she demanded. 

One student threw out a quiet answer that the woman mercilessly snapped was wrong. 

Hongjoong tried to find the paper that would allow him freedom. He saw people handing it along, signing and passing… 

This room… was startling. 

The walls were lined with posters and artwork- swaths and circles and strips of color overlaid in every hue and variation. 

He frowned deeper. Is this really what this world’s Hongjoong was wasting his time on? 

Hongjoong ignored the woman in the front, eyes tracing around the room with so many colors it made him dizzy-

“Hey,” a voice hissed, making Hongjoong turn sharply to his left. A girl shoved a piece of paper at him, returning quickly to writing something down in a notebook. 

Hongjoong breathed a sigh of relief as he took it and the pen attached, scanning the long list of names until he found his own. 

He signed it, passing it across the aisle to the next person. 

Without a word, Hongjoong stood, walking quickly to the door and exiting. 

Seonghwa jumped where he was standing. “That was fast,” he said, glancing at his phone. “She didn’t call you out for leaving?”

“No,” Hongjoong said flatly. 

“I saw Hyunjin try to talk to you,” Seonghwa said as the two of them began walking down the hall. “I should have warned you- Hongjoong’s sociable, so a lot of people might try and talk to you. Just… don’t harass anyone and end the conversation as quickly as possible, okay?” 

Hongjoong’s stomach curled as they entered the stairwell. “Well, Hyunjin wants to  _ double date  _ with you this weekend,” He scoffed darkly. 

He saw Seonghwa freeze, but Hongjoong continued down the stairs, until Seonghwa was hurrying to catch up. 

“Listen,” Seonghwa said- a combination of snappish and gentle. “Apparently, it’s not anything close to this in your universe, but in this one- Hongjoong and I are together.” 

It made his stomach churn. 

“So, yeah, people are probably going to bring up that fact- You don’t have to do anything, just don’t make people hate us by being an asshole, okay?” 

Hongjoong’s fists clenched where they were shoved in the jacket’s pockets. “I was told to sit in a class and sign a sheet of paper,” He muttered. “And that’s all I’m going to be doing.” 

If Seonghwa wanted to snap at Hongjoong for being difficult again, he didn’t. Instead he simply stopped where they entered a hallway. 

“Here,” he said curtly. “This door is the next class, it starts at 1 o’clock. It’s a smaller class, so you’re going to have to sign in, and then ask to use the restroom. Just don’t go back- but it’s a studio class, so you have to do it quickly before you get in trouble for not having anything with you, okay?” 

Hongjoong hummed without looking at Seonghwa, staring at the clock on the wall. 

“I’ll come find you at the library after my class,” Seonghwa assured him. “Just... don’t do anything violent, okay? That’s more important than not being an asshole.” 

He hummed disinterestedly. 

“ _ Hongjoong. _ ” 

He started, looking at Seonghwa sharply at the stern, disapproving statement of his name- 

_ “Hongjoong.”  _

_ “I am not in the mood for lectures, Seonghwa.”  _

_ “Well, you’re going to get them anyway. What the hell are you doing- locking yourself in the study after barely recovering from that raid?”  _

_ “I’m not interested.”  _

_ “Hongjoong.”  _

_ It was the statement of his name that always managed to still his urge to fight back. The one that made him clench his pen in his fist and glare at Seonghwa.  _

_ Seonghwa, who would stare at him expectantly- with the barest of hints of something more concerned-  _

“Promise me,” Seonghwa said firmly. “Curse people out if you have to- but  _ do not hurt  _ anyone, got it?”

Hongjoong looked away quickly, his blood sitting oddly in his veins. “Fine.” 

Seonghwa sighed quietly, glancing at the clock on the wall. “My class is across campus- I need to go. You’ll be okay?”

Hongjoong did not deign to answer that, arms crossing as he leaned against the wall and glared at the floor. 

Seonghwa sighed quietly… and then left. 

Hongjoong glared harder, trying to rinse the sound of his voice from his mind. It was even worse, these little slip ups that made him think of his Seonghwa- 

Hongjoong was never under the illusion that he was infallible. But he knew that he was only as infallible as he was, due to Seonghwa’s support. 

Seonghwa had guarded Hongjoong while he had taught himself to be strong again. Seonghwa had been the one to drag Hongjoong by his shirt and force to do what was necessary. 

Seonghwa was the one who had been able to dig deep enough into Hongjoong’s brain to pull out the parts of him that were still left, when Hongjoong was sure every part of him had already been stolen by those men in that room- 

And Hongjoong had spent every moment of his life attempting to repay that. 

It felt like the greatest of insults to begin thinking of these two Seonghwas as anything like each other. 

So Hongjoong didn’t think about anything other than that stupid book he was trying to remember. 

He entered the class when it got close to one o’clock. He silently acknowledged the people who called his name and he sat silently until the class began and he waited for the sheet of paper while the man teaching the class droned on about something. 

Hongjoong retrieved the sheet, just as he was trying to remember something about balance between universes. 

He signed it, passed it, and immediately raised his hand as he had seen the student from earlier do. 

“I need to use the restroom,” he said robotically. 

Thankfully, he was dismissed with no questions asked, and Hongjoong was relieved to be free of yet another room covered in canvases and easels and sketches that almost looked like photos. 

He wasted no time getting out of the building- searching the area for only a moment before heading towards the building Seonghwa had pointed out to him before. He kept his eyes forward- ignoring the people walking around in blissful innocence. 

No one in this world really knew what it meant to suffer, did they? 

He reached the building quickly, entering the glass double doors and instantly being hit by the scent of paper and ink- like his own study, but stronger. 

There were computers lining the walls- almost all of them full of students, but Hongjoong continued to scan until he saw a large area set aside with a sign labeled “Reference and Help Desk.” 

Hongjoong walked over briskly. And he knew before he even reached it that the woman behind it knew this Hongjoong- her eyes brightening behind her glasses as she looked up from a computer. 

“Hongjoong,” she greeted brightly, rolling her chair over to him. “What can I help you with this time?” 

Hongjoong tried not gag at her sweet, patronizing tone. 

“I need books on alternate universes,” he said stiffly. “Or dimensional travel- things like that.” 

She hummed, frowning. “Is this for a project? You’re not one for science fiction, usually.” 

“I don’t want fiction,” Hongjoong said firmly. “I need real books on it.” 

She frowned deeper. “Real books on interdimensional travel, huh? That must be some project you’re working on,” she chuckled, rolling her chair to her computer. “Let me see what we might have.” 

Hongjoong resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently as she hummed, scrolling through a list. 

“Okay,” she said finally, squinting. “It looks like we might have a few scientific books on that, but it’s mostly theoretics.” She nodded, glancing over at him. “On the third floor, B section shelves- they should be hidden in there, somewhere.” 

Third floor, B section. He nodded, turning away and striding off-

“No goodbye?” she laughed good naturedly. 

Hongjoong didn’t stop- continuing on to the stairs that lead him up two flights. He found the section easily, but only found a handful of books that might be relevant to him- and they were all written in ways he couldn’t understand. 

They talked intimately about black holes and tears in space- bringing in words that Hongjoong had to be certain meant that this was fiction- it all sounded completely made up. 

But Hongjoong still flipped through them vigorously, seated on the floor of the silent library as he tried to find any sort of page or image that might be useful- 

He paused his flickering as an illustration caught his eye. 

A black and white image of two earth- only inches from crashing into each other. Each of them had what looked like ripples coming off of each other and overlapping with the other earth’s ripples. 

The caption underneath simply read “ _ Balance Section III.iv, _ ” and Hongjoong glanced at the neighboring page under the same title- 

It was still layered with words that made no sense, but one section, at least, stood out like a beacon. 

_ “Following the theory and law that all things in nature vibrate at their own natural frequency, it is entirely plausible to assume that even our universe itself is vibrating at an unimaginable speed.  _

_ This theory is often on the front lines to discussions of other dimensions or planes of existence- one such Harvard professor even claiming ‘the only thing in this world that keeps our worlds from colliding is our out-of-synch vibrations.’ _

_ The same professor went on to speculate that should different worlds learn to vibrate at the same frequency, one of two things would occur- either, the two worlds would destroy each other, blasting into oblivion; or, the fields that kept our worlds separate would be lowered by the matching frequency, allowing people or things to cross from one to the other.”  _

Hongjoong stared with wide eyes. 

The red book in his world had stated something similar. 

Without hesitation, he picked up the book and stood quickly. A clock on the wall said that Seonghwa’s class had been dismissed a few minutes ago. 

He rushed down the flights of steps, holding the one thing that had given him some sort of clue. Maybe this world had some weird version of science that Seonghwa might be able to interpret, as idiotic as he was. 

No one stopped Hongjoong as he practically ran from the library- needing to show Seonghwa now. If this was some sort of key, it might get him back to his world- his own  _ team  _ faster. 

He could finally leave these idiots behind and feel the confidence of having the infallible at his back- 

Hongjoong froze, only a few meters outside of the library, the book still clutched at his side. 

At a bit of distance, in the grass of the courtyard, beside a fountain, he saw Seonghwa standing- facing a boy and a girl who wore dark leather jackets. 

Hongjoong might have dismissed them as classmates. 

Were it not for the man’s clearly aggressive posture, practically leering over Seonghwa while the girl stood behind him, lips curled darkly. 

And were it not for the obvious quiet rage in Seonghwa’s eyes as he said something that clearly was not polite or gentle. 

Hongjoong began walking over- limbs moving of their own accord as he frowned, creeping forward slowly. 

“-that boy toy of yours?” the boy questioned, head tilted, taunting. “I thought the two of you walked  _ everywhere together- _ ” His voice rose into a high pitch of mocking, his own laugh cutting him off. “But, I guess there’s safety in numbers, huh?”

“Not that there’s much two of you could do, even combined,” the girl giggled, hiding behind her hand sweetly. 

Seonghwa’s fists were clenched at his sides, and for the first time- 

Hongjoong saw real, genuine, unfiltered anger in his eyes. 

“I’ll say it once more,” Seonghwa bit out. “Leave me alone.” He turned on his heel, taking a single step- 

The boy grabbed the back of Seonghwa’s collar, yanking him back so hard, Hongjoong heard Seonghwa choke- the boy releasing him quickly as Seonghwa fell to the ground, the boy’s hand slapping at his face as his body fell in the grass- 

_ “Seonghwa!” _

_ He was at his side in an instant, a sword through the chest of the man whose knife was currently plunged into Seonghwa’s side- the splatter of blood unnoticed as Hongjoong dragged Seonghwa away from the battle, replaying the scene of him falling over and over as Seonghwa’s blood ran over Hongjoong’s hands-  _

Hongjoong’s fist was suddenly connecting with the boy’s jaw- a satisfying crack audible as the boy tumbled into the fountain. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with you?” the girl shrieked in fear, stumbling backwards as Hongjoong turned to her- 

“ _ Hongjoong! _ ” 

Hongjoong suddenly had a hand wrapped painfully tight around his bicep- Seonghwa gaining a sudden strength as he practically carried Hongjoong away- 

Hongjoong fought him, resisting the pull, but Seonghwa practically picked him up off the ground- Hongjoong’s boots scratching at the cement that they could barely touch.

“Let go of me!” he snapped as Seonghwa dragged them around the edge of the library and practically shoving Hongjoong into the next building over, dragging him into an empty classroom and slamming the door shut, yanking him further in-

Hongjoong practically snarled as he tore his arm away, a spitting remark on the tip of his tongue- 

“ _ Stop it, _ ” Seonghwa hissed, real, genuine anger shining through at Hongjoong. “What the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you?” he demanded, hands twitching at his sides agitatedly. “You said you wouldn’t hurt anyone- you promised you’d stop yourself-” 

_ He struck you,  _ Hongjoong almost spat. He didn’t. 

He could only glare silently. 

“What are we gonna do if Daejung presses charges?” Seonghwa almost yelled. “You  _ assaulted  _ him! You probably cracked something in his jaw- What the  _ fuck  _ were you thinking?”

Hongjoong’s fists clenched at his sides. “They threw you first.” 

“That’s different than breaking his jaw!” Seonghwa snapped. “This isn’t your world! You can’t just attack people like that! If he presses charges, that’s  _ Hongjoong’s  _ life you’re ruining- You don’t have the fucking right-” 

“So, in this world, you just lay down and take abuse?” he spat. “You just let people throw you to the ground-” 

“ _ Yes! _ ” Seonghwa shouted, his voice ringing in the empty classroom furiously. “Yes, Hongjoong- We live in a world where we have to be fucking careful, and we can’t always retaliate because we’re the underdogs, and we’re the ones that no one is going to believe-” 

“Why the fuck wouldn’t they?” Hongjoong demanded, his own voice raising. “He attacked you in broad daylight, in a crowded courtyard- there are a million people who saw! Why the hell would you live in a world where that sort of abuse was ignored-” 

“Because we’re  _ gay! _ ” 

It echoed for a moment, Seonghwa’s eyes fiery and angry, but his lips trembled as if something in him was about to break. 

“Because we’re  _ gay,  _ Hongjoong!” He yelled. “ _ My _ Hongjoong and I made the choice to be public, and that  _ show  _ you watched became our daily routine!  _ We’re  _ beneath everyone else- we’re the outcasts and the fucking freaks! No one is going to come to our aid because no one would ever  _ want to! _ ”

Hongjoong’s brow twitched, confusion and disgust settling in his stomach. 

“We walk a thin fucking line- one you just jumped way the fuck over!” Seonghwa burst. “We lay low- we don’t interact outside of the few friends we made. We do it to fucking survive and not draw that sort of attention to ourselves! Maybe we aren’t getting beaten in the streets, but no one is going to come to our defense.” 

“That’s-” 

“And  _ you! _ ” Seonghwa snapped. “You may have just put yourself in a position to be  _ arrested,  _ and if that happens, my Hongjoong is going to be kicked out of a program he worked he fucking ass off to get and stay in! Hell- you might get him kicked out of the fucking university!” 

In Hongjoong’s world… there were too many other things to build hate and divergence from. 

No one cared who you were intimate with. No one cared what personal choices you made. 

They would hate and kill you all the same. 

And it was almost jarring to Hongjoong… that this world might be more barbaric than theirs, in ways. 

“You promised you wouldn’t,” Seonghwa said, voice dropping and growing thick, as if he was holding something back. “You fucking promised, Hongjoong- Why the  _ fuck  _ did you do it?” he almost begged. And it made Hongjong stiffen because he almost sounded… disappointed. 

Like he had trusted Hongjoong… and Hongjoong had broken that. 

And that, coming from Seonghwa, was something almost too wrong to bear. 

_ He struck you.  _

Hongjoong was silent. “He attacked first.” 

“I  _ specifically  _ explained-” 

“Well, explain this, instead,” Hongjoong said sharply, shoving the book he had managed to keep a hold of towards Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa looked annoyed at the interruption- 

(It almost fucking looked like him. It wasn’t him, but Hongjoong kept seeing little things, little, tiny, miniscule things-) 

He frowned at the little black book in Hongjoong’s hands. “Where the hell did you get this?” he asked, taking it carefully. 

“The library?” he scoffed- where else could he have possibly gotten it?

“How did you check it out without Hongjoong’s card?” Seonghwa asked, narrowing his eyes at Hongjoong. 

“How did I what?” he demanded, frowning back at him. 

“Check it out- how did you get the desk to let you take it?” 

“I left with it.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened and then sharpened into anger. “You stole the library book?”

“What else are libraries for?” Hongjoong demanded angrily. 

They were nothing more than a collection of books that were meant to be taken. 

Seonghwa sighed- long and hard, rubbing at his eyes. “This day fucking sucks,” he whispered heavily, drawing in a deep breath. “Okay,” He said calmly. “I guess there’s nothing we can do but wait for the fucking police to show up, if he did press charges. For, let’s just… let’s just go home.” 

The anger left Seonghwa like a breath of air- his shoulders falling and all the powerful tension in his muscles leaving. 

It made him look smaller. It made Hongjoong’s stomach clench sickeningly. 

The walk back to the house was silent- Hongjoong’s eyes flickering around for a sign of that boy again. He couldn’t report to the police if he had no jaw left. 

“No more,” Seonghwa said suddenly as they reached the driveway of the house, turning to Hongjoong with pleading eyes. “I’m not stupid enough to think you did that to protect me- you probbaly got a kick out of watching him throw me around-” 

_ “Seonghwa! Eyes open- now!” _

_ The cold cheek that he slapped didn’t shift.  _

_ “Yunho! Get them out of here!” _

_ “Seonghwa- wake up, we have to go! Eyes open- Open your goddamn eyes, you bastard-”  _

Seonghwa huffed. “But I don’t care what reason you did it- never again, Hongjoong- do you understand?” It didn’t sound patronizing this time. 

It sounded like a threat. A real one. 

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t feel the urge to break Seonghwa’s arm for the sharp warning. 

If anything, hearing Seonghwa threaten him was more familiar than anything had been. Hongjoong absently gripped his left wrist, squeezing the tattoo there. 

“Fine,” He bit out stiffly. 

Seonghwa simply nodded, accepting it once more, and entered the house without waiting for Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong could still see the wrinkles where the boy had grabbed him, and the grass stains from where he had fallen. 

A daily… routine. 

Sickening. 

~~~~~~~~~

_ “If he hurt them- If he hurts a single one of them-“ _

The fierce threat rang in Seonghwa’s ears louder than the words on the page he had been rereading for several minutes. 

His fist clenched tightly at his own mind’s betrayal. 

_ “Would he have hurt them? _ ”

Seonghwa… had honestly not thought this copy capable of showing such… fire. His anger before was watery and weak- even if some had sprinklings of determination in them. 

For the first time, Seonghwa had seen an anger that went straight to Hongjoong’s core, but even further than that… he had seen fear. 

The same fear he was used to seeing hidden among anger and rage that covered it expertly. 

The fear when one of them was missing, and Hongjoong’s rage was loud enough to cut through men. The fear when one of them was laid in the infirmary, and Hongjoong’s hatred forced him back out of the base and tracking down whoever had done it. 

The fear when plans went awry and dangerous annoyance had him beating his fist against a wall- 

Fear that was rarely shown, but was tangible in the rage that fueled him. 

And Seonghwa hated to see it in this imposter. 

Hongjoong lived, breathed, and would die for this team he had created- that had been their creed and their belief from the moment they came together. He protected these people with, and at the expense of, his own life. 

He never expected… to see that sort of loyalty and protectiveness… in anyone else. 

He didn’t  _ want  _ to see it in the eyes of this other version. 

In his heart, Seonghwa knew that this Hongjoong was nothing like his leader- in no way did they share any sort of qualities, and it was disgusting to even suggest that someone so weak might have traits that overlapped with someone Seonghwa trusted so fiercely. 

But… in his mind… and with certain hints from the book open before him… he knew that, even if they were not the same Hongjoong… they were the same soul, the same entity- simply spread across multiple worlds. 

Maybe one was reliable, strong, loyal, fierce, and the other was weak and whimpering and incompetent- 

But who may also possess… certain hinting qualities of… loyalty… fierceness… an inability to sit by and watch something happen… 

They were  _ not  _ the same, but Seonghwa kept having certain qualities shoved beneath his nose, and he didn’t know how to react to them.

He wanted to feel hatred and disgust at this imposter who appeared to be attempting crude copies of their leader’s traits… 

But Seonghwa knew, in his blood, that this Hongjoong did not know how his leader behaved- he had no knowledge from which to base his horrible rendition. 

He could not have known of their leader who lashed out against a force clearly stronger than himself in retaliation and defense of each of them. 

He could not have known of Hongjoong’s utter inability to sit by the wayside as others worked and fought. 

He could have known of the specific fire that lit his leader’s eyes when he finally pulled himself free of swirling doubt and pushed forward with a ferocity that always managed to shock Seonghwa, no matter how many times he had seen it. 

And yet… Seonghwa still saw these in this Hongjoong. 

It played games with his mind and emotions that couldn’t decide whether to utilize or scorn the appearance of these traits. 

Seonghwa slammed the book shut, standing quickly as he felt the urge to crawl out of his skin creep over him. He strode from the room swiftly, too suffocating and confined by his own inability to find answers, to aid his leader- 

It felt like failing over and over, with each page that yielded no information, it felt like becoming nothing more than a useless burden who couldn’t even repay-

_ “You’re not useless.”  _

_ “Tell me that when the results of my mistakes come back to haunt us-”  _

_ “We all got out okay. That’s all that ever matters.”  _

_ “It isn’t all that matters- and you know that. We lost valuable assets-”  _

_ “None of those assets are more valuable than you. Than any of you. Have I failed as a leader so miserably that you’d doubt that?”  _

_ “I never doubt you.”  _

_ “And I would never doubt you- so stop doubting yourself. Your usefulness is not determined by your success- if it was, our team would be the most useless people in existence.”  _

Seonghwa shook the memory away. He had never been assaulted by their past so relentlessly- he had never had these experiences shoved back into his face, but this Hongjoong’s appearance had ruined everything- 

The days of Hongjoong’s recovery from the Black Room… and the day of Seonghwa’s recovery from that hell… had never thrown themselves back to the front of his mind to relentlessly before. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his emotions were getting the best of him, like they once did. Perhaps it was seeing Hongjoong so emotional, like he once had. 

Their team had never lost Hongjoong in such a capacity since the Black Room. He had been kidnapped, taken, lost- but never like this. 

Hongjoong had never been so truly gone since that room. 

He hadn’t even realized he was passing the study, until he saw a person from the corner of his eye. 

He froze stiffly, expression hardening as he glanced into the room. 

Hongjoong sat on the floor with his back resting against the shelves, a book open in his lap and his brow furrowed in concentration- 

(His eyes were not quite as dark, but it was the same furrow that Seonghwa was used to seeing- a signal that his leader was not to be interrupted.) 

And though Seonghwa wanted to scoff and walk away… he stood there. And he watched. 

He watched this Hongjoong’s bent up frame cradle a book, flipping through pages rapidly- pausing…. And then continuing to flip through, lips twisting in annoyance when his searching yielded nothing useful. 

He set one book aside, picking up the next and meticulously turning the page- 

His Hongjoong would never sit on the floor- he would occupy his desk- but the sight of him among the study, the familiar sound of pages flipping… though, there was no sound of a pen scratching, it was such a familiar sight- 

Hongjoong frowned deeply at a page, drawing the book closer, eyes turning concerned. “What the hell…” he breathed. 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened at the reaction. “Found anything?”

Hongjoong yelped, nearly dropping the book as he jerked his head up to stare at Seonghwa in shock- 

Pathetic. 

“Don’t do that!” Hongjoong cried, pressing a hand to his heart. “Jesus- You gave me a fucking heart attack,” he huffed, groaning in frustration. 

Seonghwa stepped almost all the way inside the study. “Did you find anything useful?”

Hongjoong put away his theatrical scare, opening his current book up again. “What kind of person was your Hongjoong?” he asked quietly, frowning. 

Seonghwa’s hands tensed at his sides. “A better man than you could ever hope to be,” he replied, brisk and cold. 

He saw Hongjoong stiffen, knuckles going slightly white on the book he held. “A glowing recommendation,” he said sarcastically, tinged a bit bitter. “But I mean- does he go around writing in his books?” 

“No,” Seonghwa replied immediately. Books were too precious and delicate to warrant that sort of treatment. He stepped further inside, frowning when Hongjoong continued to stare at the page. 

“Has he gone through all the books in here? Has he read them all?” Hongjoong asked, glancing up at Seonghwa- determined, even beneath his annoyance. 

“No. We’ve only read a few- the ones that were relevant to what we were working on. Probably more than half this library has gone untouched since we procured them from other sources.” 

“So someone else might have written in them…” Hongjoong frowned deeper, pushing the book up towards Seonghwa. “Do those numbers mean anything to you?” 

Seonghwa took the book slowly, eyes narrowing as he lifted it. 

In the margin of the page, written in thick, black ink vertically, the numbers: 10-23-5-9

His frowned until it was almost a glare. “No,” he replied darkly. Nothing about them tugged at his memory. 

He turned the book over, looking at the cover that was a soft blue-  _ A Counterattack Against the Theory of Universes.  _

“I just started grabbing books that had titles that seemed relevant,” Hongjoong explained, gesturing to his stack around him. “I’ve gone through each of them a couple of times- I only noticed this page just now. None of the ones I looked through had any sort of writing.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened. He wasn’t sure the writing had any sort of significance. But, if it did… well, what could it possibly mean? Letters made no sense, the numbers were arbitrary, and the sequence seemed random. 

“The book itself is actually against the idea of alternate universes,” Hongjoong explained. “Most of it is pretty emotional- I think this guy had some beef with the concept.” 

Seonghwa glanced up at him. “Beef,” he repeated sharply. 

Hongjoong winced. “I don’t think he liked the idea of other worlds,” he reiterated. “Half the time, he doesn’t even have any proof- he’s just calling the people who believe in them idiots.” 

Hongjoong held out his hands for the book- Seonghwa relinquishing it as Hongjoong peered at them. 

“You’re sure this wasn’t your Hongjoong?” he asked once more. 

Seonghwa’s grit his teeth. “He wouldn’t write in any of these books- and that is not his handwriting.” 

Hongjoong frowned, oblivious to the bite in Seonghwa’s voice. “This page that it’s written on… it’s about resonant frequency.” 

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed, eyes clenched shut as if he were thinking- 

The term was completely foreign to Seonghwa- at least, he had never heard the two words together to know what they meant. 

“Oh! Yeah!” Hongjoong suddenly burst, eyes going wide. “We learned about this! In physics! This is the one that kills you!” 

Seonghwa’s eyebrow cocked up, even as something in his stomach clenched- what the hell was that supposed to mean? 

Hongjoong shook his head- a different sort of energy beginning to gather in his eyes. 

“Well, not- I mean, it can- We learned about it in Physics, but I hate science, so I blanked out for most of it, but I remember my professor saying something about how if you can find this, you can kill a bunch of stuff!” 

Seonghwa’s expression only grew darker.

“Not like that!” Hongjoong assured him, eyes dragging across the page. “I don’t remember exactly, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that everything in the universe has a certain frequency it vibrates at- and if you can match that, some shit can happen.” 

Still not reassuring or coherent. 

“Have you ever seen someone sing and break a glass?” Hongjoong asked, looking up with a gleam in his eye. 

It was one Seonghwa had never seen in the eyes of his leader. He shook his head. 

Hongjoong frowned, for only a moment. “Really? Nevermind- basically, if you sing high enough at the right pitch, you can shatter glass- if you reach its resonant frequency. The part I remember most is that if you reach certain frequencies within the human body, you can either seriously fuck them up or even kill them.” 

That was… startlingly morbid, and a fact that he hoped no one in Capital ever discovered or implemented. 

“So, he’s speaking of destroying a world?” Seonghwa questioned darkly. 

“No,” Hongjoong said firmly, shaking his head as he skimmed the page. “He’s using it as an excuse why alternate worlds couldn’t exist- he claims we would have to vibrate at the same frequency to exist, but if we did, we’d destroy each other- like the glass.” 

“But we know this claim to be false,” Seonghwa said, taking the book from Hongjoong and staring at the numbers. “Your appearance here is only able to be explained by the existence of another world.” 

“Oh, I don’t trust this guy as a reliable narrator at all,” Hongjoong assured him. “I’m pretty sure this entire book is complete bullshit.” 

“Then why are you bothering with something as meaningless as a series of numbers?” Seonghwa snapped, slamming the book shut. 

They didn’t have the time to waste on science lessons that went nowhere- 

But Hongjoong didn’t flinch or shrink under Seonghwa’s gaze. He took the book back sharply, flipping back to the page. “I don’t know,” He said quietly, still frowning in concentration at the page. “I just… I have a feeling that this is important. It’s just a feeling.” 

Just a feeling. 

Seonghwa was used to blindly following whatever Hongjoong’s gut told him. If his gut said duck, you dropped to the ground. If it said shut up, you didn’t make a sound. 

This Hongjoong had not earned such courtesies- 

But… if it was the same soul, the same entity… how much could Seonghwa trust his feelings? His suspicions?

Hongjoong looked ready to hurt himself with how hard he stared. 

“What would someone write in this?” he murmured to himself. “What is it? A date? A combination? Is it even related to the book at all?” He half-turned away from Seonghwa, muttering to himself as he began to pace- 

A sight that was oh, so familiar it made Seonghwa sick. 

“Is it for a lock?” He continued to mutter. “Some sort of address? Coordinates?” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth, ready to snap at him to just shut up already- 

“Lines!” Hongjoong suddenly yelled, turning around fast enough for Seonghwa to take a reactive step back. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were practically glowing with discovery and… excitement. 

It was the strangest thing in the world… to see Hongjoong excited. 

The extent of joy he had ever seen on Hongjoong was after a raid went perfectly with no injuries- when they would return to the base, and Hongjoong would clap each member on the shoulder with a quirk to his lips and triumph in his eyes. 

And he would always come to Seonghwa last, a hard grip on Seonghwa’s shoulder as he grinned and smirked. “Today was a good day,” he would say quietly, just for the two of them. 

Seonghwa had wondered, idly, what it might be like to see Hongjoong wear a full-blown smile. To hear a genuine, from-the-chest laugh. To allow him a moment to shed the burdens of leadership and hell, to experience that sort of freedom for once- 

And to suddenly have that shoved in Seonghwa’s face nearly made him choke as he stared. 

“They’re lines in a book!” He burst. “They have to be- Chapter 10, page 23, paragraph 5, line 9!” 

He continued to practically beam at Seonghwa, whose tongue only forced itself into functioning by years of faking control. 

“That seems like an entirely large leap of logic,” he said flatly. “Those numbers could mean anything-” 

But Hongjoong was already flipping through the book. “Chapter ten,” he murmured. “23 pages in…” He started counting the pages of chapter ten under his breath- 

His expression suddenly fell. 

(If Seonghwa were actually insane, he might have thought the room was colder.) 

“There’s only fifteen pages in this chapter,” he said, voice dropping lower than Seonghwa had ever heard. His shoulders fell as his mouth twisted in frustration- 

“It was a stupid leap of logic,” Seonghwa said cruelly. “There is absolutely nothing in that that even hints it could be referring to a book.” 

But Hongjoong seemed undeterred as he continued to practically glare at the book, as if demanding that it reveal its secrets. 

“Is it a reference to another book?” he muttered, running an agitated hand through his hair- 

_ There were three signs that broadcasted to Seonghwa that Hongjoong had hit a wall he was furiously attempting to beat down. The tension between his brows as he frowned, the mess of his hair from pulling and agitating it, and the purse of his lips as if he were holding himself back from cursing-  _

“Forget it,” Seonghwa said firmly, already beginning to turn away. “It’s useless to us- try finding something that will actually aid us.” 

“Would it be a book by the same author?” Hongjoong continued to mutter, ignoring Seonghwa infuriatingly. “A reference or a footnote…” 

Seonghwa scoffed, leaving the room without looking back. 

That fact had nothing to do with seeing the set in Hongjoong’s brows, the mess of his hair, and his lips that were pressed together firmly. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong spent his day in the room, trying to remember more of the book, and pouring over the one page of readable material he had from the book he “stole.” 

But he still clearly heard the front door open and slam shut. 

Boredom and a brick wall of information made him stand, more than any sort of concern or curiosity. He cracked the door open, only enough to stick his head out of. 

“Yeosang,” he heard Wooyoung’s voice distantly, firm but frantic. “It’s gonna be okay-” 

“No, it will not,” he heard Yeosang’s gentle voice snap back. “Hongjoong was supposed to help me- I fucking failed, I know it!” 

“You’re not that bad at Fine Arts,” Wooyoung said firmly, trying to convince him. “Hongjoong was good at explaining things to you, but everything you needed was in the textbook-” 

“It doesn’t make any sense!” Yeosang burst, sounding near tears, making Hongjoong almost roll his eyes…

He didn’t though. He didn’t know why he didn’t. 

“Everything is too similar, and there’s like 100 different paintings I needed to recognize-” 

“You’re smarter than you think,” Wooyoung pressed. “I’m sure that you passed- you don’t need to ace the test-” 

“I just want this fucking- fucking  _ person  _ gone,” Yeosang practically cried, and Hongjoong wanted to roll his eyes at all the fragile emotions running wild. 

But he didn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t. 

“We all do,” Wooyoung’s voice carried gently. “But we’re stuck with him for now-” 

“Do you believe him?” Yeosang asked, a sniff following the question. “This whole... alternate worlds thing?”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on the door frame. Silence followed for a long time. 

“I do,” Wooyoung said, voice much quieter than it was a moment. “Only because… well, I mean, think about what he looks like. There’s no way his physical appearance could change like that. It’s freaky and weird… but I think I am starting to believe it.” 

Idiots. Taking so long to realize, just because they wanted to cling to their appearances of reality. 

“I don’t want to,” Yeosang muttered harshly. “But I think… I do too. And it only makes it worse because if this really isn’t hyung… Then where the hell is he?” Yeosang hissed, voice dripping with fear and worry. 

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung said comfortingly. “I guess… we’ll just have to wait.” 

There was the sound of Yeosang blowing his nose. “I hate him,” Yeosang muttered. 

“... Because he replaced Hongjoong or because you think he made you fail the exam?” 

“Both,” Yeosang hissed. “I just want him gone and everything back to normal.” 

There was a long silence. Hongjoong prepared to close the door- 

“He did crack Daejung’s jaw,” he heard Wooyoung say, as if this was a fair trade. 

There was a weak, wet laugh that died quickly. “I guess he did. He risked getting him and Seonghwa in some serious shit, though. I’m still scared-” 

“If Daejung was going to report it, he would have already,” Wooyoung comforted. “I think he’s either afraid of revealing what he was doing, or Hongjoong just scared him that fucking much.” 

Another weak laugh that sounded a little more like a sob. “It was about time someone did something to him,” Yeosang said thickly. 

“I think-” 

“Eavesdropping?”

Only recognizing Seonghwa’s voice in any situation kept Hongjoong was lashing out at the voice behind him. He jerked his head down the other way of the hall, seeing Seonghwa standing a few feet away. 

He didn’t look quite so angry as before- his eyes clearing back into that gentleness. It made Hongjoong’s stomach roll. 

His lips pressed together tightly, his chest swelling with denial of anything of the sort- 

Seonghwa just shook his head, almost seeming amused. “There’s a lot of mixed feelings about you,” Seonghwa assured him. “Namely, because you took the place of someone we relied on so much while he was here.” 

And Hongjoong clenched his jaw tightly, holding back some sort of snappy retort. He did not want to hear about  _ these  _ people needing their Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong was needed more in his own world than these people could ever dream to need someone. 

“And I’m sure that the people you left behind needed you, too,” Seonghwa said, hitting Hongjoong like a strike to the gut. “So just… try and understand that they’re missing their Hongjoong… as much as your friends are missing you.” 

Friends. What a horrendously underwhelming word for the people he had left behind. 

But Hongjoong remained silent. Everyone in this world was so obsessed with morals and empathy and understanding- 

Well, aside from those… like this Daejung character. 

Seonghwa sighed quietly, holding something out. “Here,” he said quietly. 

Hongjoong eyed the hand warily before slowly reaching out to take whatever it was. 

A phone was dropped into his hand- thin and sleek, with a case that was painted red and orange. 

“This was Hongjoong’s phone,” Seonghwa explained. “I figured it’d be best if you had some way to communicate with us, in case something happens. Everyone’s numbers are already in there. Do you know how to use it?”

Hongjoong had used one before, of course- they were all the rage in Capital. He and his team never used them, though. Too easy to track and hack into. 

“Of course, I know how to use a phone,” he snapped. 

Seonghwa merely, shrugged, the harsh bite rolling off of him like water. 

“Okay. I took off the passcode for you. Please don’t break it,” Seonghwa asked firmly. “We can’t afford to get another one.” 

“Do you honestly think me so stupid?” Hongjoong spat. 

Seonghwa’s lips thinned. “Well, you were stupid enough to attack someone in the middle of campus, so I don’t exactly know where you stand.” 

Hongjoong’s glare turned murderous. “You-” 

“I don’t care what your reasoning was,” Seonghwa said sharply. “I don’t care what sort of pent up aggression you needed to release, I don’t care if it’s been too long since you were in a fight- you don’t fucking do things like that, Honjoong!”

“I was supposed to stand by and watch him attack you?” Hongjoong snapped viciously. 

He regretted the words as soon as they left. They sounded too caring- as if it was  _ this  _ Seonghwa that Hongjoong needed to protect.

But he didn’t get a chance to change them as Seonghwa’s eyes hardened. “Yes,” He replied darkly. 

Hongjoong was startled… and then disgusted by the response. 

“Is that the sort of connection you have here?” Hongjoong demanded. “You’re the kind of people who see that sort of attack against your own- and you ignore it? You leave one of your own alone with an enemy- simply because he told you to? You just abandon people you swore to stand with-” 

“How long will it take you to realize that this isn’t your world?” Seonghwa snapped angrily. “We can’t do things like that- we have to protect each other in different ways than fists and killing!” 

“How else can you protect someone?” Hongjoong demanded, taking a step forward. “Other than wiping out anyone who could hurt them?” 

“We can’t  _ wipe people out, _ ” Seonghwa sid sharply. “We protect each other by  _ being there.  _ We take what hits  _ we  _ can take, instead of them. We’re there for them when someone hits too hard. We help them back up when someone knocks them down- and we do everything we fucking can to make sure that even on their worst days, they’re fucking  _ happy _ .” 

Happiness. 

It was secondary to everything else. Second to safety and secrecy and assurances that they wouldn't be discovered- 

At the end of the day, it didn't matter if you were happy, you just needed to be  _ alive.  _

“Are you  _ happy? _ ” Hongjoong spat. “Living in a life where you’re free of all threats, but you’re wasting your time and energy on being kind and nice? Stuck in a useless place that gives you nothing but hatred?”

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened. 

“Living a life where you roll over and let someone shove you around for nothing more than who you chose?” Hongjoong demanded. 

“Yes.” 

It came quick and without hesitation, hissed between them in a quiet anger. 

Hongjoong didn’t believe him. 

But Seonghwa’s expression was cold and icy- the closest yet that he had ever seen to his own Seonghwa- 

“Yes, I am very fucking happy,” Seonghwa hissed. “Because I found people who accepted me. Who accepted  _ us _ . I found people who would stand by me through anything. And I found someone that I would gladly suffer abuse for, if it means being with him.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach churned, his fists clenching. 

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened. “You’re not him,” Seonghwa assured him quietly, as if Hongjoong might have been mistaken. “My Hongjoong is kind and bright and everything I didn’t know I needed in my life. And maybe college is miserable, maybe we’re looked at like freaks-” 

Hongjoong wanted to slam the door shut between them. 

“But if there is one thing Hongjoong has taught it’s that it doesn’t matter what other people think,” Seonghwa hissed. “It doesn’t  _ matter. _ Because I have someone that I love and who loves me- and I have more friends than I ever thought I would find- and maybe our lives aren’t horrible, but they’re not perfect. But we’re still happy. Because we have  _ each other. _ ” 

There was no silent glaring after Seonghwa had finished. 

He simply turned and strode out of the hall, back as tense and stiff as stone. 

Hongjoong heard Seonghwa speaking to Wooyoung and Yeosang- his voice losing the coldness and speaking in quiet warmth. 

Hongjoong slammed the door shut- tired of hearing that hearing that voice. 

He was tired of everything- of all these confusing and annoying moments where things kept shifting and changing, and Hongjoong prided himself on always knowing what to do, or at least buying time until he did. 

But nothing here made sense. Nothing was as it seemed- it was like this entire world was built to constantly be changing and confusing. 

Seonghwa was soft, and then he wasn’t. He was gentle, and then he wasn’t. He was unsure and whimpering with fear- and then he wasn’t. 

What  _ was  _ this Seonghwa? It was like he had stolen parts of Hongjoong’s Seonghwa, but they only ever appeared for a moment- and they were always diluted by the remnants of gentleness and empathy. 

Hongjoong sat heavily on the bed, running a rough hand through his hair. 

Nothing made sense. And when nothing made sense, he always went to Seonghwa- seeking either an outside perspective, or someone to calm him enough to think straight again. 

Hongjoong did not have that here. All he had were seven people who hated him, but sometimes almost didn’t. 

Hongjoong felt the urge to break the phone against the wall. He stared at it in his hand. 

This was his. The other his. This room was the other Hongjoong’s. And yet, Hongjoong felt nothing but contempt for it. 

He glared at the phone in his hand, tightening his grip around it before he swiped across the screen. 

While the lockscreen was nothing more than a colorful swirl, the inside screen was a photo. 

All eight people- including their Hongjoong- stood outside this house, arms around each other and grinning at the camera. Each of them wore tie-dye shirts of varying levels of skills and colors- their hands and faces stained with the ink for the shirts. 

In the center, Seonghwa had one arm around Hongjoong’s neck, their heads leaning on one another in joyful bliss. 

It made him want to crack the screen beyond repair. 

He stared at it until he thought he might legitimately be ill, clicking on the nearest app- a messaging service. 

The first name in the list of people was Seonghwa’s- followed by several hearts and flowers and stars. 

He clicked it, staring at the most recent texts. 

_ Hongjoong: I got out of class early _

_ Seonghwa: I’m still in- meet in the cafeteria? _

_ Hongjoong: Will you buy me lunch? _

_ Seonghwa: Did you finish your assignment last night like you said you would? _

_ Hongjoong Yep~ XD  _

_ Seonghwa: then yes I will buy you lunch _

_ Hongjoong: Love you <3 _

_ Seonghwa: Love you too dumbass  _

He swiftly exited out of the app, tasting bile in the back of his throat. 

He didn’t understand how they could possibly exist like this. The thought of that sort of relationship with his Seonghwa- 

It made his stomach clench. 

Hongjoong stared at the photos app for a long moment- knowing that he would likely find nothing good in that. But… 

In his head, Hongjoong convinced himself that it might have something useful. He knew this was utter bullshit, even as he clicked on it. 

The most recent one was just Seonghwa. Asleep at the desk in this room- head dropped onto his textbook and a pen dangling from his fingers. 

And even as Hongjoong wished to quickly move on, he found himself staring. 

The only time people like them got to rest… was during sleep. It was the one time when you could actually let go of everything- unable to bring worries into that world of dreaming and blackness. 

It was the only time he had ever seen Seonghwa truly relaxed and at ease. And Hongjoong had seen Seonghwa asleep often- finding him over books or plans, or just in the chair of his room- not meaning to fall asleep, but being dragged under anyway. 

It was the only time Hongjoong’s didn’t see the harsh lines of determination and anger and fierce protectiveness marring his face. It was at these times when Seonghwa looked younger- all of them did, while they slept. 

And in this photo… this Seonghwa sat in peaceful, restful youth… and Hongjoong couldn’t tell the difference between them. 

Though it made his blood fill with a poisonous chill, Hongjoong stared at this photo and felt familiarity wash over him- 

It wasn’t him, though. 

But it was so much like him. 

It was painfully like him. Hongjoong’s hand shook on the phone, which he clenched tighter to hide it. He stared at Seonghwa and felt the first ache in his chest since he woke up here. 

Hongjoong had never been alone- there was always someone at his back, figuratively or literally. 

But he was alone, now. 

And he hadn’t felt it as heavily as it was until the moment he stopped seeing a fake copy, and saw what looked like his second in command- his most trusted friend- before him. 

He swiped away from the picture quickly before his chest could pull any tighter. 

There were photos of notebooks and scenery- intermingled with faces that Hongjoong knew but would never relate to his team. 

Yeosang, Yunho, and Jongho attempting to make a pyramid with their bodies. 

Wooyoung holding ice cream. 

Hongjoong biting various people’s heads (there were several of those). 

San and Seonghwa appearing to have a heated discussion over a bowl of soup. 

And intermingled between the pictures of the eight of them… pictures of Seonghwa and Hongjoong. 

It was the most surreal thing in the world- to stare at photos that had his face, his everything- and see his eyes burning with delight and excitement and… and… 

Something warmer as the camera caught pictures of Hongjoong gazing at Seonghwa… 

Pictures of Seonghwa staring behind the camera at someone, but you could tell just by the expression on his face who he was looking at. 

There were a lot of pictures of Seonghwa alone. A lot of them. The pictures were all masterfully taken- no blurs or smears among them, unless the picture was crazy to begin with. 

Seonghwa sitting on a bench, sitting at a table, doing schoolwork, cooking in a kitchen- 

There was one photo… taken from above. Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa laying side by side in a bed- Seonghwa clearly asleep and peaceful, but Hongjoong awake and grinning in such warm fondness as he took a picture of them both- 

It was disgusting. 

It made Hongjoong feel the urge to vomit. He stared at these faces of people he knew, people he led, people he trusted… And he saw them thrown into emotions of utter happiness and joy… 

And even as Hongjoong cursed them… he wondered if this is what they might have been. If the world hadn’t burned, if the battlelines hadn’t been drawn… 

Maybe this… was what they were meant to be… 

The next photo nearly made Hongjoong drop the phone. 

It was taken by a third party- a distance away from Hongjoong and Seonghwa who were sitting on the couch with party hats on their heads… kissing. 

Seonghwa had a gentle hand against Hongjoong’s face, and Hongjoong’s fingers were curled in the front of Seonghwa’s shirt- both of them looking to be smiling too much to properly kiss- 

Hongjoong exited the app, and threw the phone away, hearing it clatter to the floor as his breathing came in short bursts as he stared at it in horror. 

That wasn’t them. That wasn’t what his Seonghwa was to him- how dare they wear their faces and- and- 

Was this… the sort of person that Hongjoong had replaced? 

Was this… the person that Seonghwa had lost? That he claimed had made his life so much better…? 

Hongjoong’s hand curled tightly over the tattoo on his left wrist. 

His Seonghwa was different- he trusted him beyond what was humanly possible. If Seonghwa told him to slice his hand off, Hongjoong would trust and follow without hesitation- 

_ “What makes you think you can trust me? I’ve lied in worse situations.”  _

_ “Because, I’m betting on the fact that there’s some part of Hongjoong left inside of you- influencing you- whatever the fuck you want to call it. And I’m hoping to  _ God  _ that I can trust you like I could trust him.”  _

That wasn’t the same trust. It couldn't be. They could have never been in a situation like Hongjoong had been in with his team- they could never know what it meant to risk something, all for one handful of people- 

_ “I found people who would stand by me through anything. And I found someone that I would gladly suffer abuse for, if it means being with him.” _

It made Hongjoong want to run. To punch something. To be able to turn around and just see at least one familiar face, one familiar thing- 

But the problem was becoming… that these imposters and fakes… were becoming too familiar. Too often, he was letting himself slip and see his Seonghwa in the eyes of this- this  _ lie. _

Hongjoong tore open the book that made no sense and stared at it- not able to concentrate, but needing something in his hands before he stormed from the house again. 

There was a gentle knock on the door. 

Hongjoong glared at it, prepared for yet another argument. “What?” he snapped. 

There came no answer, and if Hongjoong were calmer, he might simply ignore it, if no one was going to speak to him. But the urge to move forced his body to stand and storm over. 

He tore the door open, glaring fiercely. “What the hell do you-” 

The hall was empty. But Hongjoong knew he had heard a knock. Were they fucking playing with him? 

And then he glanced down, just outside the door, and saw a plate of curry and rice with a cup of water. 

Hongjooong resisted the urge to kick the plate over. He didn’t know why he didn’t. 

Especially as he glared piercingly at the little napkin set beside the plate, simply reading “I’m sorry.” 

Such fucking weakness. It made his stomach burn with… 

Hongjoong didn’t know shame. He didn’t know regret- everything that occurred was going to happen one way or another, and he had come to accept that. 

Which meant he never flinched when he snapped at one of the others too harshly, and he never bit back a reprimand when it sat on his tongue. 

Hongjoong had never felt that burning in his stomach of being  _ wrong.  _

And yet, the flame only burned hotter as he slammed the door shut so hard, a picture fell from the wall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for having horrible endings all the time!!  
> But thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, so please let me know what you think!  
> I’m working hard on the next chapter!  
> Thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> -SS


	4. Our Minds Are Your Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! 
> 
> I’ve been swamped this week, but I present another chapter!   
> Thank you so much for all the love this has been getting!   
> I hope you guys have an amazing day! Please let me know what you think!   
> -SS

Hongjoong was still sorting through books- checking their pages and chapters, his fingers stiff from the drafty air, but he had found a thick blanket in the corner, which he had carefully set across his legs. 

He was pretty sure everyone else in the base was asleep. At least, no one had passed by to glare or scoff at him for some time. It was hard to tell time around here, because there were no windows (which was a little claustrophobic, but Hongjoong wasn’t paying attention to it). 

He thought everyone was asleep, but then Seonghwa appeared in the doorway (without scaring the shit out of Hongjoong this time), in those thick sleeping pants and t-shirt. 

Hongjoong only glanced at him. The sleeping clothes made him look  _ slightly  _ less of a hard ass, and that was doing things to Hongjoong’s poor, confused chest that would still try and figure out how this person could be his Seonghwa. 

But he wasn’t. 

He wasn’t his Seonghwa. 

“Why are you still awake?” Seonghwa asked, his voice seeming stiffer than usual, as if he was speaking through something. Hongjoong felt slightly bad that he might have woken Seonghwa up, but he shoved it down. 

“Haven’t found answers yet,” Hongjoong replied easily. 

_ A better man than you could ever hope to be.  _

Once again, that stung. 

Because as fucked up as he was, Hongjoong liked to at least think he was a good person. And it hurt, despite the fact that their idea of a “better man” was probably “a better killer.” 

But still… from Seonghwa, particularly… it left its mark. 

“So your plan is to continue your useless search throughout the night?” Seonghwa spoke, as if he had a script he was reading from. 

Hongjoong shrugged, turning a page and counting- only 22 pages in this chapter 10. 

“I’ve pulled all-nighters before,” Hongjoong assured him. “At least this is more entertaining than fucking Chemistry. And, you know,” He replied, surprised by how bitter his voice became, “the added bonus of finally leaving this hell of a place that apparently can’t do anything but want people dead and gone.” 

Yeah… maybe it left a pretty deep mark. The kind you never acknowledged, but you could feel shifting your attitude. 

Seonghwa’s reappearance only reopened the cut in his heart. 

And his silence only made Hongjoong feel like a kid throwing a fit, giving the silent treatment because he couldn’t think of another way to hurt him. 

How could Seonghwa- or  _ any _ of them- follow someone who was so cruel and violent…? Why would you  _ want  _ to follow someone like that? It made Hongjoong sick to his stomach. 

But even as he glared at the book- not reading, but not willing to look up at Seonghwa- Hongjoong knew he was being… unfair. Maybe not wrong… but there had to be something more. 

Seonghwa spoke about his leader as if he was someone important to him. Not just a tyrant who could get the job done better than anyone else. The bitterness in San, Yeosang, Wooyoung’s eyes…. As if they hated him for taking someone so important… but also so important  _ to them.  _

They spoke of him- never fondly- but with too much…  _ longing _ in their eyes. Too much almost-pain, that they apparently couldn’t let themselves show. 

Too much bitterness towards this replacement Hongjoong who wasn’t the man they chose to follow… The loyalty they displayed wasn’t blind, at least it didn’t seem like it. And Hongjoong kept almost suspecting that… 

That maybe there weren’t really good guys and bad guys in this world, like in their world. 

Like the villain and the anti-hero. The hero and the antagonist. Good people who had done bad things… and bad people who had maybe done worse things… or maybe done some good things… 

There was still so much Hongjoong didn’t know. 

And Hongjoong felt the same urge that he always felt when he didn’t know something- the one that wanted him to whip out his phone, find someone who did have the answers, or lock himself in a confined space until his own mind provided them. 

His knuckles went white where he was holding the book as the bitterness and annoyance began to retract back into his chest. 

Someone among all this needed to be the bigger person. 

The one willing to swallow their pride and back down… the one willing to keep extending that olive branch, even if they kept torching it. 

And it didn’t seem like it was going to be Seonghwa or his friends anytime soon. They’re were too much of bred fighters. Never backing down and never admitting their wrong. 

Hongjoong, on the other hand, was very accustomed to giving in. 

Hongjoong’s grip loosened on the book as he released a quiet breath, staring at his knees. 

“What was your Hongjoong like?” 

The silence from Seonghwa seemed to stretch for an eternity, but before he answered, Hongjoong chuckled- a little bit wounded, but hiding it. 

“I mean aside from being better than me in every way,” Hongjoong amended, spreading his fingers over the page gently. “Why did you trust him so much? Was he as rough as you, or was he worse? Did he ever show a different side? Was he cruel or just… determined?” 

It seemed surreal, talking about himself as a separate person. But… they were separate people. 

“Why would you ever need to know that?” Seonghwa asked, quiet voice dripping with poison. “You will never be him.” 

“I don’t want to be him,” Hongjoong assured him, almost laughing as he glanced up at Seonghwa icy expression. “I don't ever want to be the kind of person that you all are,” he said bluntly. “But… I might be here a while. I want to understand you… I don’t want to keep having these staring contests and fights- I want us to be able to actually work together without it ending in someone getting threatened.” 

Hongjoong was used to having to work with people he didn’t want to- his entire school career had been full of group projects that left him two seconds away from murder. 

And while sending 16 emails to his group mate for their goddamn powerpoint slides wasn’t exactly the same as trying to establish a tentative truce with a maniac… Hongjoong knew he could roll with those punches. 

When he glanced back up at Seonghwa, he was staring at Hongjoong with a jaw tight enough to break, and fingers curled into tensed fists. 

Seonghwa kept looking at Hongjoong oddly. And Hongjoong couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what he was feeling, but it certainly didn’t just seem like direct anger. 

Almost conflicted. 

“He seems like he… might have been a good guy,” Hongjoong said quietly. “Underneath… you know, the crazy.” 

Seonghwa’s jaw twitched, and Hongjoong waited for him to turn on his heel and walk away. 

But after what felt like the entire night passing them by, Seonghwa’s voice came, stiff and not quite shaking, but low and bitter. 

And once again… that almost-longing. 

“He is a man… that I would, and have, followed through hell,” Seonghwa murmured, not looking at Hongjoong, but staring off into nothing. 

Hongjoong held his breath as he stared up at him. 

“He is someone… One of the  _ only  _ people who ever decided that maybe we could save this world. We knew we could never fix it… but Hongjoong convinced us that we could do something. And under his guidance… we did.” 

Hongjoong wanted to say something, but everything inside of him refused to interrupt. 

And he very clearly saw something in Seonghwa’s shoulders loosen, even if they didn’t relax. 

“He is someone who has never failed us- not once. And he is someone that we pledged our lives and deaths to, just to follow.” 

His stomach twisted a little uncomfortably. 

“He has risked his life and so much more for the people here… And he is someone who has taken our lives that were hell and gave them meaning, gave them something to work towards. He grabbed us by the back of our neck and dragged out of darkness we never thought we would escape-” 

Seonghwa cut off sharply, seeming to startle himself with what he had almost said, his eyes sharpening once more as he glared at Hongjoong again- 

Hongjoong was still staring in an odd mixture of horror and awe. 

He swallowed when Seonghwa’s fists tightened. “Don’t fucking kill me when I ask this,” Hongjoong said quietly. “But… are you talking about that room? The Black Room he wrote about?” 

Seonghwa couldn’t possibly get any stiffer, but his gaze grew sharp in warning. 

“In the journal,” he said, throwing self-preservation where it belonged, “he wrote about… about how you were taken. And when you got back, you were different. You were mad when he grounded you-” 

“Stop.” 

Hongjoong’s mouth clicked shut- more so for the fact that Seonghwa didn’t snap or shout the command. 

He almost whispered it. Not anything close to a plea, but his voice was weaker, like he couldn’t manage to go higher. 

Seonghwa looked a little paler, and Hongjoong wanted to kick himself. 

Yeah, sure, let’s just casually bring up what likely caused a major case of PTSD, nice going, Hongjoong, I’m sure he appreciates- 

“We are not monsters,” Seonghwa said roughly, quietly, as Hongjoong startled. “We are not terrorists. We are people who were born into a war we didn’t start, and were convinced we were going to die in the mud like everyone else before us who wasn’t granted the safety of Capital.” 

Hongjoong winced, feeling ill. 

He had never liked those history classes where they talked about war and the consequences of it. It always made Hongjoong feel sick- as it should, but this was a million times worse than seeing soldier interviews on a projector. 

“Eight people,” Seonghwa said firmly. “Eight people and a goal was all it took to bring Capital to its knees. All it took was Hongjoong convincing us that we didn’t have to die, nameless and afraid. We could live- and if we did die, it would be for a cause.” 

It sounded like rebellion. It almost sounded crazy, like they had been too twisted by war to think clearly for anything but their goal. 

But Seonghwa’s eyes were too coherent. His words were too calm. 

“Capital was so convinced by its own safety, it took only months before we had their head beneath our boots,” Seonghwa hissed, anger filtering into his voice. “And all it takes is an occasional reminder to keep them there. They can try their pathetic attempts to eradicate us, to snuff us out, to cut us down- but they will never have the advantage we do.” 

The base was so eerily quiet. Hongjoong couldn’t even hear his own breathing. 

“They will never have Hongjoong, and they will never have the reasons to fight like we do,” Seonghwa said darkly. “They’ll capture one of us, occasionally.” His fist tightened. “They’ll get a lucky hit from a distance, and put one of us out of action. But you would think… after so many years, they would realize that the consequences from those faux-victories are never worth it.”

Hongjoong swallowed, feeling dangerously chilled. But also… as if he was understanding things for the first time. 

“The wrath they unleash everytime is apparently worth their moment of glory,” Seonghwa said bitterly, like it was a sour taste on his tongue. “Hongjoong alone is enough to destroy an entire square of Capital- and all the people inside of it.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach suddenly dropped. “You kill citizens?” he asked hoarsely. 

“There are no  _ citizens _ in Capital,” Seonghwa assured him with a scoff. “The only people allowed in Capital are the rich and governmental. And you’re only granted access to that place if you are part of the problem. There is no one innocent in Capital.” 

Hongjoong wet his lips quietly, staring at Seonghwa as he finally stood from the ground, something shining in his eyes. 

“Has controlling Capital helped at all?” Hongjoong questioned genuinely. Because it had been years, apparently, but the world was still burning. 

And he saw Seonghwa’s lips tighten. “With the control of Capital, we practically rule the world,” Seonghwa murmured quietly. “But the damage is mostly done. The air is too poisonous and carries the fires that are always burning too easily. We can stop the world from ending, but nothing short of a miracle could ever fix it. We’ve slowed the death of the planet, but we can’t cure it.” 

Hongjoong felt like he was going to vomit at the calm way he described the borrowed time they were living on. 

“Our goal is only to slow the death and to make the people responsible pay as dearly as possible.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flashed- that spark of anger and resolve. 

And Hongjoong… could now hesitantly place on then the label of the “good guy” or … perhaps, simply, the “better guy” when compared to Capital. 

“And your Hongjoong… he put you all together?” 

Seonghwa nodded stiffly. 

Hongjoong almost hummed in surprise. “You trust him… a lot, don’t you?”

“We have placed our lives in each other’s hands every day of our lives, and we have never been betrayed,” Seonghwa said stiffly, as if he was annoyed at the question. “We trust no one but ourselves, and we trust each other unconditionally.” 

And Hongjoong… Hongjoong laughed. 

It was more of a sad, sad chuckle that almost caught in his throat as he stared at his feet, but it was there, audible for Seonghwa to hear and glare at. 

“No, I’m not laughing at you,” Hongjoong assured him, still half-smiling sadly as his heart twisted. “I just… It’s not the same, but… I guess we’re like this in every universe, then…” 

He felt the way Seonghwa’s brows pulled down darkly. 

“My friends,” Hongjoong explained. “The same people that you know here- all of them. I know them, too… and I trust them the same way. Maybe not with wars and espionage,” he said quickly with another sad laugh. “But… there’s no one else I would ever trust to have my back like they do.” 

He saw the skepticism in Seonghwa’s eyes. The barest hint of a taunt. 

“Look,” Hongjoong said heavily, rubbing at his right wrist. “Maybe we aren’t fighting wars, but college can be hell, too. When you live in a world that doesn’t have all this?” He gestured around vaguely. “Little things like failing an exam are world shattering.” 

And he saw the way Seonghwa almost began to roll his eyes. 

“The expectations are different,” Hongjoong said quickly. “Maybe here, you’re expected to fight, so you do. But in my world… you’re expected to do well. Always. And you’re in a system that’s designed that you  _ have  _ to do well,  _ always _ , if you want any sort of hope for a good future that isn’t just you stuck in a miserable life with a job you hate.” 

Hongjoong felt that familiar rant stuck in his chest. 

“People always tell you: see the world before you’re too old, get the job you love, retire, live a little- but they don’t acknowledge the fact that our system is  _ specifically  _ designed to never let you do that. You’re  _ never  _ supposed to leave, you’re  _ never  _ supposed to step outside your little box, and you’re  _ never  _ supposed to be unhappy- because at least you have a job and income and food.” 

He saw Seonghwa’s brow twitch. 

“Maybe we aren’t fighting for our lives,” Hongjoong agreed quickly. “And maybe failing a class seems petty when you’re dealing with the world ending… but we aren’t faced with that,” he stressed. “We aren’t fighting for our lives, we’re fighting for our future, and we’re fighting for each other.” 

“What could you possibly have to fight for?” Seonghwa asked roughly, but it wasn’t the usual patronizing taunt. 

Hongjoong rubbed his wrist harder. “Our own minds, the system we live in, the prejudices that are enacted against us…” 

He almost wanted to laugh. Mostly, he wanted to cry. 

“Yeosang’s crying himself to sleep over homework,” Hongjoong explained, seeing how Seonghwa’s brow twitched at the familiar name. “Wooyoung suddenly has no time for dance, which was his only stress reliever. Half of my friends are sleep deprived, depressed, or about to have a mental breakdown because our world is  _ designed _ that you can never stop.” 

His stomach twisted with a sudden and terrifying worry. 

Were the others even still okay? Exam week was coming up- what would Hongjoong’s disappearance do to them?

And if his other self was there, what the hell had that done to them?

“We’re never allowed to stop… but we aren’t allowed to break, either,” Hongjoong explained. “Professors don’t accept you missing class because you stayed up having panic attacks about your grades. And God forbid you should use the term ‘mental health day-’ those are even  _ real  _ to most people.” 

Hongjoong wanted to cry now, more than he wanted to laugh. 

Seonghwa continued to watch him stoically, something calculating in his eyes. 

“We help each other get through that,” Hongjoong assured him. “And maybe we aren’t carrying swords and knives, but you cannot imagine how many times over these people I love have saved my life.” 

Because college was hard, and being the kind of person college demanded you be was harder. 

“We rely on each other… a lot,” Hongjoong said, voice a little weak. “And I’m grateful everyday that I found so many people that could accept me for who I was. Who supported me, despite my choices.” 

Seonghwa’s blank expression twitched. “Accepted you,” he repeated back, not a question but a note. 

Hongjoong grit his teeth, not really sure if this was a conversation he wanted to have. 

Especially not looking into Seonghwa’s face that wasn’t Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong’s wrist began to burn slightly the more he rubbed at it. “You and your Hongjoong,” he began carefully. “You’re not… together, are you?”

Based on every reaction he had seen, he could give a confident guess they weren’t. 

And the way Seonghwa’s expression tightened as he shook his head only made Hongjoong nod slowly. 

“Well, my Seonghwa and I are,” he said quietly. “And we have been since freshman year. And he is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together tightly. 

Hongjoong finally dropped his eyes to his wrist. “I love every single one of my friends, but Seonghwa was something special…” He chuckled to himself, glancing up. “It’s not the same, but I guess it is. You’re Hongjoong’s right hand man, aren’t you?” 

Seonghwa looked uncomfortable with the analogy. Hongjoong shrugged. 

“I guess in any universe, you and I are close, aren’t we?” he asked, not looking at Seonghwa. 

His smile faded as he stared at his wrist. “I don’t know how things work in this world… but in my world…” He sighed. “It’s better than it’s ever been… but people are still a little aggressive against people who break out of the norm. And two guys dating still isn’t really a universal norm…” 

Hongjoong opened his mouth to continue, but Seonghwa spoke first. “Are you saying that people attack you for choosing to be intimate with your Seonghwa?” He asked it aggressively, but with confusion. 

Hongjoong did look up at that, startled. “Not… atta-” He cut himself off, knowing that was a lie. “It’s not anything big, but if they get the chance, they’ll yell stuff or shove us around.” At Seonghwa’s continually darkened expression, he frowned. “Is it not like that here?”

“We have larger concerns than who chooses to be with whom,” Seonghwa assured him roughly. “If someone attacks you, it will be for more reason than who you chose to be with.” 

And Hongjoong found his lips twitching pathetically. “Well… I guess my world is a little more barbaric in some ways.” 

“It seems.” 

Hongjoong shrugged. “Either way, Seonghwa and I decided that it was worth it.” 

He tugged his sleeve up. 

On in the inside of his right wrist, stood a tiny black anchor beside an infinity sign. 

Hongjoong’s eyes caught the way Seonghwa’s hand caught his own left wrist tightly. 

He showed the tattoo off. “The infinity sign is one all eight of us have. Get it?” he chuckled. “Because it means forever, but it’s also an eight.” 

He tapped the little anchor. “And this one… me and Seonghwa got this one. We just picked something stupid, but then he started making up all this sort of poetic shit about us anchoring each other and keeping us from drifting away-” 

Hongjoong was surprised by his his throat caught, and he cleared it roughly. His heart hurt. 

“Anyway,” he said roughly. “Maybe that’s our common ground. We both love our friends more than anything else.” 

His eyes trailed over Seonghwa’s hand that still clenched his wrist. He frowned gently, glancing up at Seonghwa in silent questioning. 

Seonghwa’s lips thinned as his jaw twitched, something in his eyes tightened as he pushed up the sleeve of his left hand. 

Hongjoong saw a tattoo, in the same exact place inside his wrist as his own, but it was a chain. With eight links. 

His breath caught. “For your team?” 

Seonghwa nodded solemnly. 

He couldn’t help the breathless laugh that left his mouth as he stared at him, something inexplicably warm but terrifyingly weak rooting in his chest. 

Seonghwa looked stricken. Hongjoong tried to smile. “I guess some things just follow across universes, huh?”

And honestly? Hongjoong was really fucking glad this was one of them. 

~~~~~~~~

_ “One of two things would occur- either, the two worlds would destroy each other, blasting into oblivion; or, the fields that kept our worlds separate would be lowered by the matching frequency, allowing people or things to cross from one to the other.”  _

Hongjoong stared at the passage, rereading it over and over. 

The book in his study had spoken about balance. Was that some rudimentary explanation compared to this scientific one?

If their worlds had, in fact, matched vibrations- it was clear that that the worlds had not been destroyed. 

But, if their fields had been lowered… was balance required?

In theory… If Hongjoong was here… was their Hongjoong in his own world? 

It almost made Hongjoong feel bad for the poor, weak bastard. His world would eat him alive. 

But it also made him feel slightly ill are he glared at the picture. 

How the hell did they get back? If this page was speaking truthfully, then had the vibrations simply matched by random? Why was Hongjoong seemingly the only thing affected? If the fields were lowered, why was no one else reported missing or replaced? 

Why him? Why now? How? 

There was a knock at the door. Hongjoong glanced at the empty dinner plate sitting on the desk as he stood, walking over and yanking open the door. 

“What?” he snapped. 

To his invisible shock, it wasn’t Seonghwa standing there. 

It was Yeosang. Whose hands were visibly shaking where they were clenched in front of him. He almost seemed to be trying to glare in determination, but it only accented the nerves in his eyes. 

So pathetic. 

“I need my notebook,” he practically whispered, staring at Hongjoong resolutely. “I left it in here… before.” 

Hongjoong bit back any sort of reply, stepping aside silently. Yeosang rushed in, going straight for the desk and moving some papers as he picked up a green notebook, clutching it to his chest like a shield. 

He turned back around, freezing when he locked eyes with Hongjoong. 

And for a moment, there was a flare in his eyes- something almost fiery, but still afraid- as if he was shoving his fear aside for a moment. 

“You replaced someone really special,” Yeosang said fiercely, quietly- his expression determined. “To all of us. You came at the worst time, taking from us someone who was really fucking important in our lives.” 

Hongjoong wanted to roll his eyes. He was sick to death of hearing about how sweet and kind this other version of himself was. 

“Talk to Seonghwa. Apologize for what you guys were yelling about. Try to understand things.” 

His expression hardened, but Yeosang seemed to be standing firm. 

“I’m serious,” Yeosang pressed, eyes narrowing. “You’re wearing the face of someone who’s special to all of us, but who’s precious to Seonghwa- and you keep hurting him.” 

“He’ll live.” 

Yeosang’s brows twitched, something almost close to anger burning in his eyes. “Don’t be cruel,” he said quietly. “Do you  _ want  _ to hurt him?”

_ Yes,  _ was on the very tip of Hongjoong’s tongue. He wanted to hurt Seonghwa for wearing the face of someone so close to him, he wanted to hurt him for staring at Hongjoong like he wasn’t an enemy, he wanted to hurt him for living a life where he suffered willingly for someone- 

For Hongjoong. For him. 

Suffering for someone was nothing foreign to Hongjoong- he lived and breathed and bled for his team. 

It made him angry, it made him antsy- thinking about these two worthless copies of themselves, being attacked and ridiculed, but doing  _ nothing _ , out of self-preservation. 

Hongjoong didn’t want to call it suffering for each other. That sounded too noble. And it wasn't noble. It was cowardice. 

It wasn’t… noble. It wasn't. 

Standing there and taking a hit… just to ensure things didn’t get worse… wasn’t noble. 

It wasn’t. Wasn’t it?

No, nothing these people did could ever be noble, they should be killing those people who dared to attack them- 

“Our world isn’t as simple as you think it is,” Yeosang assured him quietly. “And neither are Hongjoong and Seonghwa. I don’t care what relationship you have with your Seonghwa- Hongjoong and Seonghwa love each other-” 

His mind flashed through every photo and text message he had seen on that phone. 

“-so stop taking out your anger on him. It hurts more than just what you think you see.” 

Yeosang was suddenly brushing passed Hongjoong as he left, the door closing silently behind him. 

Hongjoong stared at the spot he had just been standing at. 

What did they want from him? Embraces? Cooing? Compliments and prose of poetry? 

The door opened, making Hongjoong turn swiftly as Seonghwa’s face appeared, frowning in gentle concern. “Was Yeosang just in here?” he questioned. 

Hongjoong was so used to his Seonghwa being concerned, it wouldn’t faze him if  _ this  _ concern wasn’t so warm and leading- instead of the firm hand dragging him out of his chair and practically tossing him into bed with a threat not to leave until morning. 

Hongjoong’s fists were clenched. “He grabbed a notebook.” 

Seonghwa hummed, frowning deeper. “Okay… Will you subject yourself to coming to his remaining classes today?” he asked carefully. 

Hongjoong had no desire to do anything of the sort. 

And he almost just snapped for Seonghwa to get out. But everything on top of everything was swirling around his head like smog, and he grit his teeth achingly. 

The day passed as miserably as could be expected. 

But Hongjoong saw no sign of that boy who had attacked them, which was either fortunate or unfortunate. 

He dug nails into his palm as he thought back to Seonghwa being pulled to the ground. 

He wasn’t  _ him _ , Hongjoong kept reminding him. He had no reason to feel protective over this Seonghwa. 

And he didn’t. 

He  _ didn’t.  _

And by the time Seonghwa was appearing outside the last class Hongjoong had been forced to sign in for, Hongjoong was ready to never have to experience that again. 

“Why would you ever suffer through something so droll?” Hongjoong scoffed as they walked back across the fields and sidewalks. “I can barely stand ten minutes of it.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, something warm and foreign sounding. “Welcome to college,” Seonghwa assured him. “You sit through stuff like that for four years, and then you can go off into the world with a piece of paper saying you’re worth something that no one actually cares about.” 

Hongjoong frowned at the utter ridiculousness. “Then why the hell are you wasting precious time in there?” 

Seonghwa’s smile turned a bit tighter, as if Hongjoong had struck a nerve. “See, you’re already learning the ways of this world,” he said sarcastically as he stared at thesidwalk ahead of them. He sighed heavily. “We’re here because our world demands it. College is useless in most cases, and completely ineffective in the rest. But, you’re going to die flipping burgers and broke if you don’t go.” 

“That’s completely ineffective!” Hongjoong snapped, yet another stupid thing about this world. 

Seonghwa shrugged helplessly. “It’s the way it is. People just accepted that and moved on.” 

“Why the hell would you simply allow your fate to be controlled like that?” he demanded. 

It almost disgusted Hongjoong. 

He and his team risked their lives every day to fight for change, to change the fates they were told were absolute. And hearing someone like  _ Seonghwa  _ speaking about how  _ that’s just the way things were- _

“We try and fight it,” Seonghwa said quietly. “But our government is basically useless and deaf to people-” 

“Then overthrow it,” Hongjoong hissed, fists clenching. 

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong, as if he wasn’t quite getting it. “Do you have a government in your world?”

“No.” 

“Are you the one who overthrew it?” 

“We overthrew the last dregs of it,” Hongjoong said stiffly. “Capital was basically the scum who survived the initial anarchy.” 

“How long have you been without a real government?”

Hongjong didn’t have time to review history, but he huffed, thinking back. “Long before I was ever born,” he summed up. 

“Do your countries have allies?” Seonghwa asked. “A police system? A popularity among the people?” He pressed his lips together as Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you do. Our world has all those. Which means we can’t just storm the president’s place, kill him, and set fire to the remains. There are consequences to that.” 

“Then deal with them!”

“A few years of boring classes isn’t worth  _ dying  _ for, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, exasperated, ceasing to walk and staring at him. “Stop it. Stop talking about overthrowing things. I told you before- our world isn’t perfect, but it’s good enough. We aren’t going to destroy it like yours just to get some education funding!”

In his frustration, Seonghwa sped up, making Hongjoong keep pace. 

“It’s not complacency if it’s good enough,” Seonghwa said firmly. “Maybe we spend a lot of useless time here, but we’re fucking lucky, Hongjoong. We get some sort of education, we’re protected from wars, we get healthcare and shit- for now, it’s enough, Hongjoong.” 

To Hongjoong, it was never enough. 

“We just want to get out of here,” Seongwha said firmly. “And get a job and make enough money to live without scraping by. And as useless as it is, college looks good on paper and will let us do that. So stop talking about overthrowing things the moment something becomes inconvenient- that’s not how things work here.”

It could be, if they weren’t cowards. 

But… 

(Hongjoong hated being rational.) 

But, he supposed that had he even been born into a world that was half-savable… he may have never made an effort to change it. If he hadn’t become so desperate to survive… maybe he, too, would have just been content to live with the little he had been given. 

But Hongjoong was given nothing at all. And he had forcibly taken what the world wouldn’t give him, with the help of Seonghwa and the others.

In fact, it seemed like a distant utopia to have what this world seemed to have. 

Was wasting a few hours that bad, when you had nothing looming over you with a death bell? 

It felt unfair. 

Unfair that his team had suffered so much, when this world was given everything- 

He stopped the thought in its tracks, rubbing at his left wrist. It was useless to think about fairness. Nothing was fair- and Hongjoong had long since learned to stop whining about it. 

Nothing in this world was permanent to him- Hongjoong was better off treating it as nothing more than an elaborate dream. 

“Holy shit.” 

Seonghwa suddenly stopped walking, just as they were reaching the house, eyes wide as he stared at Hongjoong’s wrist. 

In his rubbing, he had pushed up the jacket sleeve, and the edge of the tattoo peaked out, Seonghwa almost looking pale- 

Hongjoong covered it quickly, feeling like something was being exposed and ogled- 

“Do you seriously have-” Seonghwa quickly shoved up the sleeve of his own shirt he wore. 

For a split moment, Hongjoong was terrified at the notion that this Seonghwa somehow had their tattoo. 

But it wasn’t theirs. It was a figure eight and an anchor beside each other, on the opposite wrist. 

Staring at it intently, Hongjoong slowly lifted the sleeve of the jacket, Seonghwa’s breath coming out in a rush as he saw the chain. 

“Holy hell- I thought you had the same tattoo,” he breathed, placing a hand on his chest. “That was really freaky.” But his eyes still remained on the chain. He glanced up at Hongjoong with a frown. “Eight links?” 

He nodded slowly. Seonghwa’s lips twitched. “That’s… actually pretty amazing. That we both have those friendship tattoos- ours in an infinity sign, but it’s an eight, too. Do all of you have that chain?” 

Another slow nod as Hongjoong stared at his wrist. 

He remembered about things being similar in universes. That it was the same life that had taken different decisions, but things would be the same, sometimes. 

Like all of them having matching tattoos… though the tattoos were different. 

“That’s some transcending space and time shit, huh?” Seonghwa laughed nervously. “Like soulmates and stuff.” 

Hongjoong wasn’t listening. He was staring at the anchor that sat beside the eight. 

Seonghwa followed his gaze, his lips thinning. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s mine and Hongjoong’s. We got in after our first year together.” 

Hongjoong continued to stare, something clenching uncomfortably in his stomach. 

“He wanted to get hearts, but I didn’t want something so cheesy,” Seonghwa explained. “But I guess this is pretty cheesy… it was just supposed to be something fun and stupid. But…” Seonghwa’s thumb brushed over the tattoo. 

Hongjoong almost felt a ghost sensation over his own wrist. 

“But it… came to mean a lot to us,” he murmured, staring at the anchor that was surely a reminder of everything Hongjoong was not. 

He wasn’t cheesy or kind or funny or helpful or fun. He was everything opposite of those. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were a bit pained, something wry and accepting in his eyes. Like staring at a headstone. 

“You care for your Hongjoong… that much?”

It was said quietly, though the terseness of the words gave no illusion of compassion. 

Seonghwa’s expression wavered for a moment, his lips trying to smile but warping as his expression pinched. “Yeah,” he whispered thickly, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Yeah, I do.” 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together tightly. Aside from these sorts of emotional breaks being utterly ridiculous, they made Hongjoong uncomfortable. 

They made him feel out of his element, like he was losing control on a situation- and that was something he could never allow to happen for the survival of himself and others. 

And the only way to get that control back was to stop the stupid tears that shone in Seonghwa’s eyes, but Hongjoong had since learned that snapping and yelling and sneering did little to actually stop the breaks. 

So, he clenched his fist, watching Seonghwa try not to break. 

“I think your Hongjoong may be in my world.” 

That certainly drove back the impending emotions, Seonghwa’s head snapping up and his eyes staring wide- unshed tears still lingering in his shock. “Y-Your world? The one that’s ending and caught in a civil war?” 

Hongjoong nodded. 

“Why would you think he was there?” Seonghwa managed, straightening slightly. At the very least, his sadness seemed to be forgotten. 

“Everything I’ve read talks about balance and matching,” Hongjoong said briskly. “If a Hongjoong was taken from my world, it would make sense that one needed to be replaced.” 

“But that doesn’t explain why it happened to begin with.” 

Hongjoong shook his head. “No,” he assured him. “But it’s a starting place. If we operate under the assumption that balance must be kept, it can help us sort through what may be useful or not.” 

Seonghwa brought his sleeve up, wiping away at his eyes. “You found that in the book you grabbed from the library?” he asked, pulling himself together. Hongjoong nodded. “Well, let’s go look at it. You said you didn’t understand some of it-” 

“They’re words that exist in my world, but I don’t know enough about them there, either. I’m a tyrant, not a scientist. Those people belong to Capital-” 

“Are you?” Seonghwa asked quietly. 

“Am I what?” Hongjoong huffed shortly. 

“A tyrant,” he said, glancing back. “Do you rule by fear?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Does your Seonghwa and your friends follow you out of fear?” Seonghwa asked, oh so ignorantly. 

Hongjoong recoiled a step, glaring. “Never,” He snapped sharply. 

Any action or decisions made by them was born from trust or respect- never fear. They had never feared Hongjoong, and Hongjoong would cut the tattoo from his wrist before allowing them to. 

“Then I don’t think that makes you a tyrant,” Seonghwa said as they entered the house. “If you’re not leading by fear.” 

And Hongjoong was hesitant to say it, but Seonghwa almost looked comforted by that fact as they entered back into the house. 

Hongjoong didn’t know why… but he hated the way his chest clenched. 

_ “Do you think I’m cruel?”  _

_ “Of course. How else would Capital know we were serious?”  _

_ “I meant as a leader.”  _

_ “I don’t follow.”  _

_ “To all of you… Am I cruel? Do you follow only because you’re afraid of what I could do?” _

_ “And what would you do to us?”  _

_ “Nothing. Not a damn thing.” The very thought of harming someone in this base was sickening.  _

_ “You said you would protect us.”  _

_ “I will.”  _

_ “Then why would we fear you? Would you say you’d protect us and then stab us if we chose to leave?” _

_ “Never.”  _

_ “Do you think us ignorant?” Seonghwa had said, the closest thing to a laugh he had ever heard. “We see you behind the raids and interrogations, Hongjoong- We do not fear you. If anything, you likely fear us more than we fear you.”  _

_ It was a repulsive idea. But… not ridiculous. Hongjoong did fear them, in a way. He feared what they had become in his heart, the power they and their lives held over him.  _

_ “Our recent acts have been more… distasteful. San and Mingi spoke out against them- I do not want them feeling obligated to participate-”  _

_ “These people ruined  _ our  _ homes, too, Hongjoong. We have just as much reason to fight as you- that’s why we are here. Even if they squirm at the thought, they wouldn’t be here if they weren’t willing. And they would leave the moment they became unwilling- you explained that the moment you first approached us.”  _

_ “I do not want to be a tyrant to you.”  _

_ “You do not rule by fear, among us,” Seonghwa assured him. “If we follow, it is out of trust or respect.”  _

_ That was the thought Hongjoong clung to, each day and each night, holding it perhaps a bit too close to his chest, repeating it like a matra when doubt began to creep-  _

Hongjoong refused to take comfort from  _ this  _ Seonghwa’s opinion. 

But it was hard not to. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong was used to pulling all-nighters but it didn’t mean he didn’t look like shit in the morning. 

He dragged himself up from the ground when he saw Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho pass by the door, fully dressed with swords at their sides. 

Hongjoong could never remember a moment in his own world when he would describe his friends as badass, but he had to admit, beneath the terrifying nature, it was pretty fucking cool. ( _ Way  _ beneath the terror.)

Which felt a little insensitive, given that they were fighting a war, but Hongjoong was more focused on his ass that was numb as he stretched painfully. 

He followed them, finding all but Yeosang already seated at the breakfast table- even Seonghwa, fully dressed and looking as if nothing had happened the night before. 

Hongjoong sat, eating the same food as before except this time he drank plain black coffee, ignoring the slightly-pissed off looks that were thrown his way. Eventually, he glanced at Seonghwa, wondering if things really hadn’t changed from last night… 

“Where’s Yeosang?” he asked, directed at Seonghwa, but it seemed like everyone but Seonghwa looked at him. “Sleeping in?”

Wooyoung snorted, as if that was very fucking funny. 

If it was his Wooyoung, Hongjoong might throw a fork at him. But, he suspected that that may result in a lot more bodily injury than his Wooyoung could ever inflict. 

“On a recon mission,” Seonghwa answered without looking up from his plate, lifting a delicate fork to his mouth. “He left earlier.” 

Hongjoong hummed, the table falling completely silent. He stared at his little pile of what looked like oatmeal. “I went through just about every book I could think of,” he said, breaking the silence again. “None of them had anything that matched those numbers.” 

“That’s because you took a random series of numbers and assigned them an arbitrary meaning,” Seonghwa said- condemning, but not sharp like before. “Spend your time doing something more useful than chasing a false lead.” 

“You don’t know it’s false,” he fought testingly. “I still have a few more books to check-” 

“You said you wanted to be useful, but you’re chasing red herrings now?” San said sharply, eyes angry. “Do something useful if you’re going to demand-” 

“San.” 

Hongjoong was more shocked than San was at Seonghwa’s quiet reprimand, eyes still one his food that he ate slowly. 

“Leave it,” he ordered quietly. “Nothing will ever get done with all this back and forth- you’re more mature than you insult everything coming out of someone’s mouth.” 

“ _ He’s- _ ”

“I’m very aware of who he is and is not,” Seonghwa said, sharper as he finally looked up at San. “But when have we ever allowed a single mishap or mistake to make us useless?” he demanded. “When has Hongjoong ever allowed us to fall apart over a single incident?”

At the mention of his…  _ better  _ self, San’s jaw tightened. “Fine,” he muttered, shoving his chair back and storming from the room. 

Yet another lovely breakfast- Yunho, Mingi, and Wooyoung immediately standing and following out after San- whether they just wanted to escape Hongjoong’s presence, or to talk to San, Hongjoong didn’t really know. 

But it was just him, Seonghwa, and Jongho left at the table. 

Jongho was staring at him. Hongjoong’s Jongho was emotionally stunted on the best of days, but never had such indifference been aimed at Hongjoong. 

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Jongho asked, almost like a test. 

Hongjoong blinked, taken aback for a moment. “No,” he said firmly. “And in my world, that’s a good thing.” 

Jongho hummed, as if he expected as much, standing. “It shows,” he muttered. 

“Have you killed people?” Hongjoong asked before he could take a step. Jongho glanced back. Hongjoong stared, wondering why he even asked, but it… it was sad. Thinking about Jongho- who seemed no older than his own Jongho- killing people. 

About any of them having to do these things… just to survive. 

His expression darkened. “More than you could possibly imagine.” 

Hongjoong’s fingers curled into a shaking fist beneath the table as he didn’t glance away. “Did you want to?” he asked quietly. “Kill those people?” 

Jongho’s lips twitched- but it looked more like trying to hold back a scowl. “For what they’ve done to my home and friends? Yes. Why the hell do you think we’re still here?” 

Jongho turned and walked away briskly, boots thudding against the floor. 

“Is that your goal?” Hongjoong asked, glancing at Seonghwa carefully. “To kill off everyone who destroyed your world?” 

Seonghwa hadn’t stopped staring at him the entire conversation with Jongho. His lips were stiff, but something in his eyes tightened. 

“We don’t need them all dead… We didn’t even plan to kill them, at first,” Seonghwa said, standing slowly. “They gave us no choice. We tried intimidation and faux threats- the only thing these people understand is the head of their richest on their doorstep.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach churned violently. 

“How old are you?” he asked quietly. 

Seonghwa’s eyes flashed, as if it was an offensive question. “Does it matter? Does it negate or lessen what we’ve been through?”

“No,” Hongjoong whispered. “But… this is really your entire life? You’ve lived like this since you were born?” he demanded weakly, his chest aching. 

Seonghwa scoffed quietly, shaking his head. “When Hongjoong found me, I was slicing throats with a broken bottle inside a trash pile that I’d lived in since my parents were killed in the fires that Capital had been setting.” 

Hongjoong felt like he had stepped outside again. Something dark and poisonous filling his lungs as he stared with eyes that couldn’t help but widen in horror. 

Seonghwa scoffed again, at his reaction. “I had it easy- I, at least, had a will to fight. That was more than most were granted.” 

“You…” Hongjoong’s voice was nothing but a horrified whisper. “Your Hongjoong… found you… And recruited you?” 

It was all very fantasy. Very Sci-Fi. But this was their reality. 

“I had half of his throat slit before he nearly broke my arm,” Seonghwa said stiffly, his hand clenching at his side. 

Hongjoong idly wondered if it was a painful memory… or a good one. 

“He was the first person who ever fought back- the first person I had ever seen with a will to fight, like I had. And I was the first person Hongjoong had seen who was willing to stand my ground.” 

“That’s… a hell of a way to meet your best friend,” Hongjoong tried to laugh, but it wouldn’t come. 

Seonghwa’s lip curled in distaste at the title. “It was a tentative truce- a promise to help each other and not stab the other in their sleep. Others were added to that truce.” 

“But it wasn’t always a truce,” Hongjoong said quietly. “It’s not a truce anymore- he means more to you than that.” 

Something in Seonghwa’s expression hardened at the statement, and Hongjoong knew he had said the wrong thing. 

“You cannot possibly know what any person here means to each other,” Seonghwa hissed, fists shaking at his side as his eyes sharpened into black daggers. “You cannot ever know how insulting the vapid title of  _ ‘friend’  _ is to the people who fight here- And you will  _ never  _ understand what the man  _ you  _ replaced was to me.” 

There was no door in the room. 

But Hongjoong flinched as Seonghwa stormed away like one had been slammed. 

He grit his teeth. So much for not insulting everything that comes out of a mouth, huh? 

Hongjoong remained at the table, staring at his cold food, and trying not to let the anger and frustration that rose in his throat consume him. He fiddled with the cup beside his plate- it wasn’t that mineral water, and it smelled like weak coffee. 

Hongjoong had no desire to drink it as he stared into the dark liquid as the base fell silent- as if everyone had left, retreating deep into parts that Hongjoong hadn’t yet visited. 

He rested his head against the table, exhausted from the night spent staring at book. 

There had to be an important book somewhere- Hongjoong had a gut feeling that wouldn’t go away, he had to follow it, he had to get home, he had to- 

There was the distant sound of something thudding, making Hongjoong jump. 

He glanced around quickly, but no one else was in the room. He waited for another noise, but none followed. 

Was it just the base settling down? 

He turned in the direction that the noise had come from, standing slowly and walking towards the door. Through it, there was only the entrance hall, but all the other rooms’ doors were closed, and the thud had sounded closer… 

No one was around. 

Something creeped through Hongjoong’s veins. 

Hongjoong frowned, about to return to his manic thoughts, but he stared at the front door that stood there so innocently. 

As if it wasn’t hiding hell. 

The thud couldn’t have come from outside, right? Nothing out there could be worth looking at, even if it had. Hongjoong would probably open the door and get a fucking knife to the chest, if something was out there. 

So, he didn’t know why the fuck he was walking towards it, arm already outstretched to open it. 

Just to take a peek. Just to be sure because otherwise, he’d be freaked out all day by the ominous noise. 

Hongjoong cracked the door open slowly, just enough to peer through. He immediately flinched back at the blast of heat, but when he pressed to the crack again, he saw nothing but smouldering- most of the fires seeming to be lessened at the moment. 

He almost skipped over the body completely, were it not for the horrible wheezing noise that drew his attention downward. 

Laying on the porch was Yeosang- on his side with one hand pressed at his hip, bloody and slick, and the other frantically pressing his broken black mask to his face, barely able to cover his nose and mouth. 

And for a moment, Hongjoong could only stare at every horrible part of the scene washed over him like an icy bath. 

He felt like his head had just been shoved under water- harder to breathe than any poison could make it as he stared at Yeosang’s pinched, pale expression- 

_ Yeosang.  _

It finally punched the air was his lungs as Hongjoong ripped the door open, and stumbling the three feet between them, dropping to his knees beside him. 

“Yeosang-” He didn’t know what to do, he was bleeding, Yeosang was  _ bleeding,  _ he wasn’t breathing properly, he- 

Get him inside, Hongjoong’s mind screamed. 

“I’m sorry- Hold on,” he hissed, grabbing Yeosang’s arms and dragging him across the short distance to the door. 

Yeosang made a deep, guttural noise that almost made Hongjoong drop him- his hand falling away from holding his mask to grip at Hongjoong’s arm, making it easy to get him over the threshold. 

Hongjoong practically dropped him, stumbling to the door and slamming it shut as he panted, dropping to his knees beside Yeosang, hands trembling as both of Yeosang’s hands clamped over whatever was pouring out blood- 

He was so fucking pale, expression twisted and weak, throaty noises of pain barely escaping- 

Hongjoong had taken a single first aid class over the summer of his second year. 

He yanked his shirt off, even as he screamed for Seonghwa, for help- 

Yeosang’s head hit the floor with a horribly loud smack when Hongjoong shoved his hands aside and pressed the shirt to his side. He had to use one hand when Yeosang tried to shove him off- chest heaving as Hongjoong applied pressure to try and stop the heavy flow that had already given too much. 

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong said breathlessly, trying not to look at the blood already covering his hands from the wound and Yeosang’s own stained skin. “It’s gonna be okay, you’re safe-  _ Seonghwa! _ ” he screamed again, his heart rising to his throat the longer no one came. 

Yeosang made one more weak attempt to shove off Hongjoong’s hands, eyes clenched shut so tightly, it looked painful. 

Yeosang made one, valiant attempt to sit up- maybe to try and fight Hongjoong. He didn’t know. But he didn’t get any farther than shifting his abdomen where the wound was before he fell back limply. 

Hongjoong’s heart stopped for a moment as ice flooded his veins- 

Yeosang’s chest rose in small, weak wheezes, but he was still breathing- he just passed out. Hongjoong fucking hoped that’s what it was as he pressed all of his weight onto the wound he couldn’t even see- 

“ _ Seong- _ ” 

Seonghwa suddenly whipped around a corner- hands catching himself on the doorframe- 

For the first time since arriving here… Hongjoong would say that Seonghwa was afraid. 

He appeared, looking frantic, eyes searching and taking in the sight of Hongjoong and Yeosang. 

At his appearance, Hongjoong felt tears pressing against his eyes. “I- I don’t know what happened!” he cried frantically. “I- There was a noise, and he was- he was on the porch-” 

Yunho suddenly appeared behind Seonghwa, Jongho rushing in from the other side of the hall- both of their expressions paling at the sight. 

“Get him to the infirmary,” Seonghwa ordered, already turning and running off somewhere else. 

Jongho and Yunho both moved- practically shoving Hongjoong out of the way, who fell back on his ass as they picked Yeosang up by his torso and feet- rushing in the direction Seonghwa had left in. 

Hongjoong was shaking. 

Perhaps worse than any other fear had made him shake. He stared down at the blood on his hands, some of it dripping down his arm. 

He cried weakly, staring at it and begging himself to look away, to go wash it off- 

He stared at it. And he cried, feeling like it was acid burning his skin. 

Yeosang’s blood. There was so much of it- staining the carpet where he’d lain, soaked through Hongjoong’s shirt that was laying on the floor, on his hands and arms, trailing in the direction they had run with him- 

Hongjoong had never needed this kind of fear. Fear of dying, fear of being hurt- those weren’t natural, but they were things you thought about all the time. 

Sitting here… covered in his friend’s blood… faced with a situation where he may be dying and you realized how fucking helpless you were for him… seeing so much of their blood that they never should have needed to lose- 

His hands shook violently as he tried to quiet his cries, but every second he spent looking at it was another needle shoved into his chest. 

He started rubbing his hands together, like it might get rid of it, but it just smeared it together- the slick sensation of it only making Hongjoong gag, his stomach finally catching up to what was actually covering- 

Two firm hands grabbed his own and pushed them down firmly. 

Hongjoong’s head snapped up, finding Wooyoung’s hardened expression inches from his own. 

Hongjoong was practically hyperventilating as he stared at Wooyoung, silently begging that he said nothing about pulling himself together because that may honestly break him. 

Wooyoung’s touch was rough and firm, but they eyes that stared at him were hardened with something almost like understanding and almost like acceptance. 

“Stop looking at it,” He ordered darkly. 

He stood, suddenly, dragging Hongjoong up with him- his knees struggling to support him weight, but he wasn’t really given an option as Wooyoung forcibly dragged him through halls until they reached the one holding the bedrooms. 

Wooyoung shoved one door open, dragging Hongjoong into the bathroom. 

With jerking, angry movements, he yanked him to the sink, turning the water one and shoving Hongjoong’s hands beneath the stream. 

Rough hands scrubbed at Hongjoong’s- the red falling away in pink streams down the drain that Hongjoong watched almost therapeutically. 

“Don’t stare at the stuff,” Wooyoung said darkly. “You’ll only make yourself even more fucking useless.” 

It didn’t sound like a direct attack on Hongjoong. It sounded like a personal rule- one all of them knew and followed, that Hongjoong needed to remember. 

This whole scene… There was nothing gentle or caring about it, but it was… it was almost something not-aggressive. 

It was kind, even if it wasn’t gentle. 

He was still breathing a little too fast. 

“Is- Is he going to die?” He managed, stomach still rolling. “There- There was so much blood, is he-” 

“He’s not going to die,” Wooyoung said sharply. 

It sounded partially like a refusal to believe it… and partially like Hongjoong was dumb for thinking it was that bad. 

“Seonghwa and Yunho are way too good to let something like a single abdomen wound to kill one of us,” He scoffed. “And Yeosang is stronger than to let it fucking kill him.” 

Hongjoong thought of all those entries he had seen… the ones that detailed each person getting hurt in some fashion or another… and their Hongjoong’s reaction to all of it. 

The anger and need for vengeance against the people who had hurt his friends- 

Not friends. Teammates? Soulmates? What the hell did they call each other? 

He thought of Seonghwa’s fear- the first fear Hongjoong had seen- and Yunho and Jongho’s pallor at the sight of Yeosang- 

Of Wooyoung’s utter disbelief that this would ever kill one of them. 

“You all… love each other a lot, don’t you?” Hongjoong whispered, taking deep, weak breaths to try and get his self-control back. 

Wooyoung glared at him. “Why do you have the dumbest labels for shit?” he demanded. “What the hell sort of use do we have for  _ love _ ?”

Hongjoong’s hands slowly stopped shaking under the warm water that had been running clear for a while now. “Then what do you call what you feel for each other?”

“We don’t call it anything.” 

“Then what it is?” Hongjoong asked. “Camaraderie? Seonghwa said it was all about trust- but this isn’t just military loyalty- nothing you do is done with just a basic respect. There’s something deeper there, you all care for each other. You care for your Hongjoong, that’s why you’re so mad that I’m here-” 

“We don’t  _ care  _ for each other,” Wooyoung spat, his grip tightening on Hongjoong’s hands that he hadn’t released. “We can’t afford to care for each other-” 

“Why not?” Hongjoong questioned, a little sharply. 

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened as he tore his hands away from Hongjoong’s, dripping wet. “Look around you,” he hissed. “Do you think this is the kind of world that is conducive for caring for someone?” 

Hongjoong winced. 

“We trust each other,” Wooyoung snapped. “We watch our backs, and we fix ourselves when we break- that’s it. Anything more, and you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak.” 

Hongjoong really should learn to shut his mouth, but he stared at Wooyoung’s desperate, angry eyes. “Wouldn’t you feel it anyway?” he asked quietly. “If Yeosang were to die now, isn’t that what you would feel?” 

Because there was no way these people were that indifferent to each other. They were lying through their teeth. 

But… as Wooyoung’s expression darkened… Hongjoong realized that maybe they needed to. 

It was the same mentality as war- you made allies, but don’t make friends. Because no one was guaranteed to make it back. 

Wooyoung shoved passed Hongjoong without a word. Hongjoong regretted the words. 

Yeah, sure, maybe just taunt them with the fact that they live in a world where nothing is certain and losing each other is so unthinkable, but they can never express that fact because it would either be exploited or worsened by reality. 

Nice going, Hongjoong. 

He turned the water off slowly, the lack of warmth making him shiver as he realized he was still without a shirt. 

He dried his hands, exiting the bathroom with knees that were still weak. 

He went back into the room he had been staying in- their Hongjoong’s room. Their Hongjoong. 

As Hongjoong went to the chest that held the journals (he had no intention of grabbing those again), he found his heart sinking lower in his chest. 

He wanted to give their Hongjoong back. 

These people needed him. He was their leader, their friend (despite the lack of appropriateness of the word), and they relied on him in a different, completely separate way than Hongjoong’s friends relied on him. 

They needed him. And Hongjoong wished they could just switch back. He wanted to go back to his friends who needed him, and give their Hongjoong back because they needed him. 

He grabbed a black shirt, pulling it on slowly. It smelled like grass and smoke, but not as suffocating as outside. Cleaner. 

He stared around this room. His room. Another him. 

It was startling, when he started lining up how much of their lives aligned, even in completely different ways. 

He tugged the sleeve up and stared at the two dark tattoos. 

He supposed that this universe was proof that their little infinity sign was right. He supposed the eight of them were just inevitable. 

Which is why Yeosang couldn’t die. 

The thought of it made him curl around a pillow, trying not to let himself be weak again. 

~~~~~~~

“Okay, I’m no science major, but I’m pretty sure this-” 

“Then why the fuck are you talking, Yunho? Let Jongho finish reading.” 

“Shut up- I know about multiverse theory, okay, San?”

“You read comic books.” 

“They’re based on real science!” 

“Shut up,” Hongjoong finally snapped, making everyone flinch at the harsh word, Seonghwa glaring at him in disapproval. 

They all gathered around the kitchen table- Jongho and Mingi trying to use their combined Biology and Engineering majors to figure out what the book was saying. 

After some time had passed and Hongjoong had secluded himself rather than being so openly hostile, it seemed like things had… calmed down. No one was threatening to stab anyone, no one was threatening to call the police… 

They just stared at Hongjoong, as if just realizing that this might actually be real. 

It was an… awkward affair. 

Mostly because everyone was still either in denial or just trying to ignore the crazy shit associated with Hongjoong. Everyone seemed to be acting as if it was just Hongjoong dressing up and playing pretend. 

Like a scavenger hunt. 

“Okay,” Jongho said, pushing the book away. “I’ve got a basic understanding of some of this stuff- but there’s a lot of like… black holes and shit in here. But I think we’ve got a basic understanding.” 

“Anything useful?” Seonghwa asked, fingers drumming the table gently. Hongjoong sat beside him, stoic and dark as usual. 

“I guess it depends on what might be useful,” Mingi said, flipping back a couple pages. “Based on the physics and stuff I understood, it’s just talking about balance and shit and stars aligning.” 

“We figured that,” Hongjoong said darkly. “If I’m here, your Hongjoong may be in my universe.” 

“Do you think he’s alright?” San asked, eyes an ignorant sort of hopeful. 

Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong, the question one that he had been too afraid to ask. And he felt the way his stomach clenched when Hongjoong didn’t answer immediately, glancing at Seonghwa out of the corner of his eye. 

He almost seemed to hesitate. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe.” 

“Well, we need something better than that,” Wooyoung pressed, glaring. “If you showed up here and tried to kill half of us, how the hell are the rest of us in your universe going to react to Hongjoong showing up? Would they kill him?”

Seonghwa’s stomach dropped sickeningly, cold fear grabbing his heart. 

He couldn’t be dead. Right?

“I thought it was all about balance,” Seonghwa said firmly. “Surely, our Hongjoong can’t die in your universe- then it would be unbalanced.” 

“I don’t think it works like that,” Jongho said heavily, gesturing to the book. “This Hongjoong could probably die in his universe without any problems. But in terms of the exchange that we’re talking about- balance is probably a key factor.” 

“Another theory was about universes lining up,” Mingi said, trying to steer clear of the thought of Hongjoong’s death. 

Seonghwa was both grateful and fearful. 

“Things like… if our earth and their earth pass over the same spot at the same time,” He explained. “It has to be exact to the millisecond, but if it happened, they think it would have the same effect as the vibrations lining up- in essence, things need to line up, whether they’re physical or vibrations.” 

“Either destroying us or opening a gate,” San said, nodding. 

“Yeah,” Mingi said, frowning. “I’m not sure which theory really makes more sense- really, neither of them do-” 

Hongjoong’s hand suddenly slammed on the table, rising from his chair so quickly, it fell to the ground. 

Everyone jumped, Seonghwa almost reaching out for Hongjoong as he stared in shock at the violent reaction- 

“What was your Hongjoong doing when he was taken?” Hongjoong demanded, something almost crazed in his eyes. 

Seonghwa’s tongue was tied in knots as he stared at him. 

He was used to seeing that sort of determined, have-to-finish-this stare, but never quite so… deranged. 

It was still pretty close to his Hongjoong, though. 

“I- I don’t know,” Seonghwa admitted. 

He had already replayed that day over and over in his mind. 

“He said he was going to take a nap- I didn’t see him until that evening, and I don’t know if that was even him or you when I came in,” He said quickly. 

Hongjoong continued to stare. 

And oh, Seonghwa was so used to seeing those wheels cranking and turning and racing behind his eyes as he stared at the table, wild calculations going through his head. 

He leaned forward to see Hongjoong’s frantic eyes. “What?” he questioned. 

“The last thing I remember,” Hongjoong said, sounding short on breath, “was sitting down in my chair- I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I did.” 

“So?” Wooyoung demanded, even as Seonghwa’s blood turned cold. 

“You think you lined up?” he questioned sharply, also getting to his feet. 

“The vibrations theory sounds completely arbitrary- there’s no way to control or measure that,” Hongjoong said quickly. “It’s just a one in infinity chance-” 

“But the lining up theory,” Seonghwa said, heart rate picking up as he stood as well, eyes widening as his and Hongjoong’s eyes locked. “That’s got a lot more chances-” 

“If your Hongjoong and I were both preparing to sleep-” 

“What if you fell asleep at the exact same moment?” Seonghwa demanded, something swelling in his chest as some of Hongjoong’s constant anger seemed to fade into realization. “It’s still a one in a  _ ridiculous  _ chance, but it’s more likely than vibrations-” 

“It also explains why no one else was affected,” Hongjoong stressed. “Why only he and I were taken-” 

“You slept at the same time, the little pocket of the wall between the two of you fell,” Seonghwa burst, heart racing, “and you were swapped without anyone else being affected because only the two of you lined up-” 

“So only the two of us had our gate lowered and were affected,” Hongjoong said quietly, eyes… 

Seonghwa had never seen those eyes on him. 

Determined, but shocked, but also analyzing Seonghwa… casting over him again and again as if Hongjoong was trying to make sure he was real. 

As if he couldn’t quite believe what Seonghwa was doing. 

“That was fucking weird, guys.” 

Seonghwa blinked, whatever spell between him and Hongjoong shattering. 

He hadn’t realized they were standing so close together, staring into each other’s eyes like madmen finally making a breakthrough. 

He took a quick step back as he saw the rest of the table staring at them- varying degrees of discomfort and smirks on their faces. 

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Seonghwa said, trying to clear his throat that was suddenly thick. “It’s the only real explanation we have-” 

“So…what?” San asked, frowning in confusion. “If we get the worlds to line up for them again, they’ll go back?” 

“How the hell has this never happened to anyone?” Jongho demanded. 

“Maybe it has,” Yunho murmured. “Maybe they just chose to keep quiet about it, like us.” 

“It couldn’t happen often,” Mingi assured them. “If the exactness in this book is real, than it means that you have to be  _ precise-  _ your brains physically made the movement from awake to asleep at the same exact moment, in  _ complete  _ synchronicity.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened slightly, but they still stared at Seonghwa in a bit of wonder. “Which means having it occur again would be nearly impossible.” 

The triumph of before faded like a balloon losing air as that fact settled on Seonghwa. 

If this had never happened to them in 22 years of life, would it take another 22 or even more years for it to happen again? 

“What if we tried to orchestrate it happening again?” Wooyoung proposed, leaning on the table. “You know your own schedule- what are you usually doing at 6 in the evening?”

Hongjoong scoffed, but it wasn’t as cruel as it had once been. He shook his head. “It would take longer for that to occur than simply waiting for another lucky chance.” 

“So that’s all we can do?” Yeosang questioned, voice small and quiet as he stared at Seonghwa. “Wait?” 

Seonghwa’s jaw clenched. “It… There has to be a way to speed it up- or a way around it.” 

“Maybe it’s like one of those movies,” Yunho said helpfully. “Like, the hero can only return home when he’s completed his mission.” 

“What the hell would the mission be?” San demanded. “And that makes no sense- they were swapped because of some science crap, not heroism.” 

“Still…” 

“Jongho, Mingi, can you keep looking through it?” Seonghwa requested, eyes pleading. “Anything that might help.” 

“I have a midterm Monday,” Mingi said, voice turning just above a whine.

“We’re trying to get Hongjoong back, dude,” Yunho said disapprovingly. 

“And I’m trying to pass Advanced Calculus,” Mingi fought, taking the book. “But fine, we’ll go see what else is in here that talks about swapping over. Come on, Jongho, let’s get this out of the way so I can study.” 

“Midterms!” Yunho said, as if he had just remembered, standing and gesturing for San to come. “We need to finish that.” 

They both left, too. 

Yeosang, unable to stand such silences and face-to-face moments with this Hongjoong, grabbed Wooyoung’s arm. “I want ice cream,” he said, already pulling Wooyoung along. 

“Do you want anything, hyung?” Yeosang asked, even as they were halfway out the door. 

“I’m good,” Seonghwa assured them, the door slamming shut behind them. 

Silence reigned as he and Hongjoong stood in the kitchen alone. Hongjoong staring darkly at the table, and Seonghwa staring at him quietly. 

“That was…” 

Seonghwa didn’t even know if he wanted to say it, but Hongjoong glanced at him. 

“My Hongjoong and I did stuff like that all the time,” Seonghwa said, a quiet chuckle on his lips. “Finishing our thoughts, rambling together… we always had that same wavelength.” 

It always made Seonghwa feel so damn happy when it happened. When the two of them were brainstorming and just fucking ran with an idea- no matter how crazy. 

His pressed his hands hard into the surface of the table. “You know,” he said, voice turning a bit thick. “Sometimes, I forget… Sometimes, I look at your, and you’re just so much like Hongjoong, I forget you’re not him.” 

“I’m nothing like him,” Hongjoong hissed, almost defensive. 

“That’s what I thought, too,” Seonghwa assured him, staring at his white knuckles. “But…” 

Everything from the smaller angers (not the raging fury he wore sometimes), to the determination, to the way he stared at Seonghwa, to the way he held himself, to the furrow of his brow as he thought- 

“It’s almost like you’re a more extreme version of him,” Seonghwa said heavily, looking at Hongjoong and hoping he understood. “You’re not him- I understand that. But… I can see all the ways you are him. And all the ways… he was you.” 

“He-  _ all of you- _ are weak.” 

“We’re not,” Seonghwa said quietly, shaking his head slowly. “Maybe we’re weaker than you, but we’re not weak. Maybe we haven’t gone through so much, but we’re not weak. And you… you aren’t an evil version of him, like I might have thought.” 

Because to Seonghwa, this person had been evil. 

Evil for taking someone who was so pure and good and kind and bright and turning him into this… this… 

Broken human being. 

“You’re not evil,” Seonghwa pressed. “You’re hardened. You’re hurt. You’re our post apocalyptic selves who are trying to survive- and you’re just trying to protect your family, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have a family,” Hongjoong snapped, anger popping back up like a shield and sword. 

“Yes, you do,” Seonghwa chuckled, the refusal almost seeming comedic. “You can’t tell me that you don’t see these people, in your world, as your family.” 

“I don’t.” 

“How could you not?” Seonghwa demanded. “Look at the way you talk about them, the way your face changes when you think about them-” 

Hongjoong’s expression hardened into diamond. “They aren’t family,” Hongjoong snapped. “They’re my team.” 

“They can mean the same thing,” Seonghwa assured him gently. 

“ _ No _ , they can’t!”

Seonghwa drew up short at the yell that was… a lot louder than anything Hongjoong had thus far said. 

Hongjoong’s expression was locked in anger, fists at his side as his eyes reflected like obsidian. 

“They are not  _ family-  _ My family has been dead since before I could remember. The only thing family is good for is  _ dying. _ ” 

Seonghwa flinched, a cold icicle pressing into his heart as his expression pinched. 

Hongjoong suddenly looked away, running a rough hand through his hand, his profile hard and desperate, as if something was almost scaring him- 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly, reaching out for him. 

Because Hongjoong loved touch. He loved pats and squeezes and tugs- even if he loved to act like he didn’t. 

Touching Hongjoong was second nature, and Seonghwa was wondering how he had gone so long without it when there was a Hongjoong in front of him that was so distressed, it was heartbreaking. 

But this Hongjoong slapped his hand away, glaring. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed, like a cat raising its fur in defense. 

Seonghwa let his hand drop slowly, expression almost pitying. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, watching how Hongjoong’s jaw twitched. “I’m sorry that you live in a world that makes you afraid to be close to someone.” 

And Seonghwa knew he made a mistake. 

He saw the way Hongjoong’s eyes flashed, the way his body seemed to inhale to prepare for a fight, the danger that settled on his stiff lips and cold eyes- 

It didn’t go anywhere. 

Seonghwa waited for the yell, or even for an attack, but… Hongjoong just stood there. 

Staring at Seonghwa. 

And his shoulder slowly fell, though his eyes were still so very angry. “You don’t understand…  _ anything, _ ” he hissed. “You can never understand-” 

“I know I can’t,” Seonghwa assured him, feeling like his heart was tearing in two. 

All he could see was a Hongjoong that Seonghwa had never wanted to allow to form. 

One who was bitter and angry and tired of everything. From their schooling to their work to the people who spit on them as they passed- 

It was so easy to let it all consume them. And Seonghwa had been so afraid, that one summer where Hongjoong had almost fallen apart because of it. 

Seonghwa (and their friends, of course, they never left their sides) did everything they could to help Hongjoong. To comfort and reassure him, and in the end, it was enough to help Hongjoong find that peace in himself to survive it. 

But Seonghwa never wanted Hongjoong to have a life where he turned into this. 

But he was staring it in the eyes right now. And it fucking hurt. 

“I know I can’t understand you, Hongjoong, and that’s the hardest part, because I could always understand you-” 

“That wasn’t me,” Hongjoong snapped. “I was never that person-” 

“You’re not him,” Seonghwa amended, shaking his head. “Not in every way, but you  _ are  _ him, Hongjoong. You are him- at the very base of it all, you two are exactly the same, you just choose the show it differently-” 

“I’m nothing like him- you’ve said it yourself!” Defensive and rough and accusing- 

“I did…” 

Seonghwa had maybe made some mistakes. In the way he saw this Hongjoong, in the way he reacted to him, in the way he saw him as an abomination… 

Rather than an individual. A hurt individual. 

“But the two of you are… are connected by things,” Seonghwa stressed. “You’re both driven by forces beyond all comprehension, you would both die for your friends who mean the world to you, you’re both leaders- even if you chose different things to lead, you both only know how to throw your whole self into a task until it’s completed-” 

Hongjoong’s expression twitched, and it almost seemed pained. 

“I think the most painful thing about this, isn’t how much you look like him,” Seonghwa said quietly. “It’s how much you act like him- in everything you do. You act like you don’t care, but you care so much, you’re terrified by it, aren’t you?”

Hongjoong’s fists clenched, something in his face paling. 

Seonghwa wondered for a moment if he would strike him. 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said quietly. “I’m sorry I’ve been taking out my own grief on you, I’m sorry I acted as if you were wrong for being the way you are- you aren’t a broken version of Hongjoong, you’re your own version. Even if you’re the same where it matters.” 

Hongjoong looked torn between screaming and storming away. Or maybe rifling through the kitchen for a knife. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not the Seonghwa you need,” he went on, this one hurting just a bit. “I’m sorry I’m not the man you decided to trust, and I’m sorry that I’ve probably tarnished the image you had of him by being everything he isn’t supposed to be… But I want you to know that you can trust me, Hongjoong.” 

His jaw jumped, expression like marble- cold and stiff. As if waiting for a blow. 

“As far as I can take it, you can trust me,” Seonghwa whispered. “Even if you aren’t my Hongjoong, you’re still you. And you can ask any person who knows me… I would do anything for Hongjoong. Mine or otherwise.” 

It felt like a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying being lifted. Something like relief. 

It felt good to clear that air. 

And then Hongjoong’s small, shaking frame turned and strode out of the room. 

Seonghwa stared, his heart sinking- 

A door slammed, hard enough to make him wince, chest aching. 

He hadn’t meant to say the wrong thing. He genuinely was sorry that things had been so ugly between the two of them. Hongjoong was as helpless in this as they were. 

Seonghwa just wanted Hongjoong to go back to the people he cared about, and Seonghwa wanted his own Hongjoong back. 

He sat heavily at the kitchen table, and he put his head down, so tired and drained from so many days of trying to remain sane. 

He didn’t cry. He was well passed that stage. 

He just missed Hongjoong-  _ his  _ Hongjoong- like a limb that had been cut off. Fear and devastation warred in his chest until it just felt like a cloud of dust refusing to settle. 

But he watched the clock on the microwave tick from 9 PM to 10 PM and then 1 AM. He stared, his chest heavy behind imagination. He couldn’t even bring himself to move to the couch. 

He heard footsteps approaching. 

Seonghwa didn’t move- hoping that whatever person was coming for a midnight snack might think he was asleep. 

Except he recognized those footsteps. 

When they came to a pause, Seonghwa lifted his head slowly, seeing Hongjoong standing in the doorway, his head bowed. 

He looked weary. Heavy. And Seongwha resisted the urge to stand and go to him. He’d been resisting those urges a lot. 

The two of them simply existed in each other’s presence for a moment, Seonghwa practically holding his breath, refusing to question why Hongjoong was still awake at 1 AM. 

Hongjoong did not lift his head when he spoke.

“The only person who knows me… truly well enough to anger me beyond comprehension… is you,” Hongjoong muttered, shaking his head slowly. “And it seems like every version of you is gifted with the unfair advantage of tearing me apart, just to prove me wrong.” 

“That isn’t what I was trying to do,” Seonghwa said quickly- 

“It’s what I needed you to do,” Hongjoong huffed bitterly. “ _ My  _ version of you- I relied on you to do that. To smack me down when I started getting too big, too lost in my own head and need to destroy everything that threatened… the people I swore to protect. That was your job, beside me.”

Seonghwa felt like he shouldn’t even breath, his eyes stinging at the weight in Hongjoong’s voice that nothing would likely ever lessen. 

And even though Seonghwa had been listening, had heard it over and over… it wasn’t until this moment that he realized… he couldn’t even begin to understand where Hongjoong came from, his relationship to those around him… what they meant to him. 

“None of my team are afraid of me,” He said, shaking his head as if the idea disgusted him. “But Seonghwa… Seonghwa never hesitated to put me where I needed to be.” 

Hongjoong lifted his head slowly, staring at Seonghwa with eyes… 

Eyes that held way too much. Things that Seongwha couldn’t- and didn’t want to- understand or empathize with. 

Seonghwa and his Hongjoong may have each other’s worlds… but this was something else entirely. 

Something Seonghwa could have never imagined ever being to Hongjoong- in any universe. 

“I need… my Seonghwa,” Hongjoong rasped harshly, expression twitching. “Maybe more… more than I ever thought. I didn’t even realize I was screwing up here again and again… without him to drag me back where I was supposed to be.” 

Seonghwa didn’t want to hear more- he didn’t know he could take Hongjoong’s voice saying these things… such sad, weighted, horrible things that were heartbreaking and marvelous because how could one person be that to another? 

How did you even begin to carry that responsibility? 

Hongjoong swallowed, leaning on the doorframe. He was no less rough, no less fiery in his eyes- but it was muted. As if he was trying to force it down long enough to speak. 

“I think I need my Seonghwa… more I could ever possibly admit, for fear of losing him.” 

Seonghwa’s heart froze in his chest. 

“I don’t love him,” Hongjoong assured him, voice sharpening dangerously before calming. “Love has no place in our world- we don’t have time for love, not when our lives are fleeting, risked every day just for another chance at survival. I don’t love him- I don’t even think I could if I wanted to.” 

It was so fucking sad. 

How the hell did this Hongjoong survive the world ending, when Seonghwa could barely survive college without Hongjoong at his side? 

“Love isn’t just romantic,” Seonghwa reminded him thickly. “I’ve seen how you talk about him and the rest of your team. You love them- even if it isn’t how I love my Hongjoong.” 

“No,” Hongjoong insisted calmly. “It’s not love. Maybe I do care for them, maybe they mean more than I could ever bring myself to admit… But I can’t love them. I won’t.” 

“They’ve lived this long, haven’t they?” Seonghwa questioned weakly. “Why can’t you love them? You’ve been loving them- you just never said it. And that’s okay, Hongjoong.”

“You could never understand,” Hongjoong huffed- bitter, but almost sad. Not quite, though. It didn’t make the full dip. “Not you or anyone else here.” 

“Maybe not,” Seonghwa allowed gently. “I’ve never really risked my life for something,” he admitted. “But I knew that loving Hongjoong was going to impact my life in a way that wouldn’t be pleasant, externally. I still made that choice.” 

Hongjoong stared at him, once again, dipping so close to sad, but missing and relying on bitter. “You’re right,” He said quickly. “You haven’t ever risked your life. So don’t try and lecture me about what I risk mine for.” 

“You’re risking it for them, aren’t you?” Seonghwa murmured. “For your Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong simply stared blankly, as if he was a million years in the past. 

Seonghwa swallowed thickly. “What do you fight for?” he inquired carefully. “If not your team, then what? You said your world was beyond saving. So what are you fighting and risking your life for?” 

Hongjoong stared for another moment, and Seonghwa waited for him to walk away again. 

But Hongjoong simply leaned harder against the doorframe, letting it take more of his weight. 

“At first, we fought just to survive,” he said lowly, never tipping away from the underlying anger in his voice, that roughness that seemed to be part of him. “I found people like me- people willing to fight, even for a lost cause. People who were tired of dying. People who chose to live for each other.” 

Seonghwa’s tongue tasted like bitter ash in his mouth as he stared at this man… 

So much like his Hongjoong… and so different. 

“We fought to survive,” he repeated firmly. “And then it changed.  _ I  _ changed,” he amended. Something in his eyes went very… very far away, as if staring into the past. “I did it for them,” he murmured, voice deep in his chest. “I started fighting for them. For all of them- all the people I had gathered to survive with.” 

He didn’t speak with horror in his voice. 

Seonghwa couldn’t even imagine it- and he didn’t want to. 

He didn’t want to imagine these version of themselves- war hardened and half-dead, clinging together for a desperate chance to live another day. Pledging themselves to each other so firmly, in a place where death was as common as breathing. 

“I stopped caring about my own survival. I wanted to keep  _ them  _ alive,” Hongjoong went on, voice dropping into nearly a whisper- still so angry in its calm. “The people… The  _ fools _ ,” he hissed quietly, “who chose to follow and fight beside me for an idea that none of us really believed in at the time.” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, still a million miles away. “ It was better than dying in a ditch, though.”

What fucking hells were they living in? What sort of system would create these sorts of people- gathered under flags against the threat of mutual extinction. 

Hongjoong’s lips pressed together until they paled. “I risked everything,” He whispered. “Myself, the people around us, the entire world… just to give them just another day to live.” His expression pinched lightly. “In the end, we got stronger the longer we forced ourselves to survive.”

His eyes cleared, suddenly staring at Seonghwa, but almost as if he wasn’t seeing him. 

As if he was staring at someone else entirely. 

“And then we were suddenly on top, with our boots firmly against Capital’s throats. The others… they were inspired by me, somehow. They wanted to change the world, like we had changed our own. I went along with it. We started fighting to keep our world alive- as much as we could.”

Seonghwa wasn’t sure when the last time he took a breath was. 

Hongjoong shrugged roughly. “And maybe I fight for our world,” he agreed. “Maybe I do want to save it....” He shook his head. “But in the end….it all comes back to them.”

Seonghwa’s heart clenched at the quiet tone. 

Hongjoong’s lip curled slightly- distasteful, but calm. “I don’t fight for the villages,” He muttered, shaking his head. “Or the world. I’m not fighting for the good of all mankind- mankind can disappear off the face of the earth for all I care.” 

Somehow… the selfish statement didn’t cause Seonghwa to flinch. 

It only made the ache in his chest larger as Hongjoong’s arms tightened across his chest, a sort of longing in his eyes as they glazed over the past once more. His expression was set in bitter stone. 

“I fought for those things because they asked it of me,” he murmured. “But in the end… I’m fighting for them. I don’t care if the world keeps burning, so long as they escape the fires.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw twitched. 

“That’s what my Seonghwa is for. To stop me from just letting the world burn. To keep me from taking my team and running. We could escape Capital, all these monsters… But the others would never let me hear the end of it. So, we stick around and Seonghwa keeps me from becoming the ultimate, selfish disappointment to my team.” 

His fingers curled in the pocket of the hoodie he wore like it was battle armor. 

“I fight for them. For the people who pledged their lives to me- All I want is to protect those lives. I fight for their survival… For just one more day.” His lips twitched darkly. “Like selling a little bit more of yourself to the devil, just for one day more, one day more, one day more-” 

His eyes snapped into focus, staring at Seonghwa with the very edges of hostility. 

“What would you know about feeling that way for someone?” he asked lowly, a challenge and accusation. 

Seonghwa could do nothing but shake his head slowly. “Not a damn thing,” he whispered, expression heavy and dull. “But you’d be even stupider than me to try and convince me that isn’t love.” 

“It isn’t.” 

“Then what would you call it?” Seonghwa whispered. 

“Desperation,” Hongjoong hissed. “Obsession and selfishness.” 

“No,” Seonghwa said quietly, shaking his head heavily. “No, that’s not what you described to me. You just want them to be happy, don’t you?” 

“Happiness does not exist in that world,” Hongjoong scoffed. “And even if it did, it dies faster than people do.” 

“But you can’t tell me… If you had the opportunity to give it to them… that you wouldn’t risk everything, just to give them a moment of it.”

Hongjoong’s lips pressed together, something flashing in his eyes. 

“Maybe I am like your Seonghwa,” Seonghwa chuckled. “Maybe I do know you well. But it’s only because you’re so much like my Hongjoong… You’ve never had a selfish thought in your life- even if you try to act like you do.” 

His Hongjoong would always declare that he wanted chicken and there was no room for arguments. (No one brought up how it coincidentally coincided with Yeosang’s exam periods.) 

How Hongjoong would declare being bored and drag them out of the house to do something, just because he wanted to. (And of course, it  _ never  _ lined up with when half of them were about to break down from studying too long.) 

Hongjoong throwing ice cream at people, claiming he had bought it but didn’t feel like eating anymore. 

Hongjoong laying on people, under the pretense of being tired, and whatever tear-logged person was beneath him simply accepting the comforting weight of a friend. 

“You don’t have to love anyone like I love Hongjoong,” Seonghwa assured him quietly. “But you can’t describe what you just told me… and convince me that it’s anything else.”

Hongjoong’s glare was thick and rough, but nothing about it was sharp. Nothing was threatening. 

Seonghwa was beginning to think that he just didn’t know how not to scowl. Didn’t know how not to speak so roughly. It was just who he had become. 

And that… was okay. 

“You need your Seonghwa to keep you grounded,” Seonghwa murmured. “I need my Hongjoong to ground myself. He’s like-” 

Seonghwa’s hand suddenly wrapped around the tattoo on his wrist. 

“He’s like my anchor,” Seonghwa whispered, voice thickening as his eyes burned. “And I… I feel for him differently than you feel for you Seonghwa.” 

“I don’t think there’s another person in any world who could ever understand what my team is to me,” Hongjoong muttered, expression hardening almost defensively, like he was getting too close to feeling something. 

“That’s good,” Seonghwa rasped, nodding quickly. “That’s good. What you have is special. I’m glad… I’m glad that even though you’re living in hell… you have those people who make it worth it.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes… grew distant again, going blank and dull. 

“There are very few things… in any world… that I wouldn’t do for them.” 

“I can tell,” Seongwha whispered. 

“Things you would disgusted in me for.” 

“Not if it was for them,” Seonghwa assured them quietly. “You said they didn’t fear you. If that’s the case… I trust my other self to follow someone who was worth it.” 

Seonghwa truly believed that any version of Hongjoong would be worth it. 

What he didn’t expect was Hongjoong’s eyes to focus on him again- showing a visible shock for the first time, almost startling Seonghwa- 

He stared at Seonghwa as he had just struck him. 

As if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, startled and taken aback. 

Seonghwa laughed weakly. “What?” he questioned. “If I can see so much of my Hongjoong in you, why can’t I trust the parts of me in your Seonghwa?” 

Hongjoong continued to stare, something in his dark eyes shining and twisting. 

Seonghwa’s weak smile slowly faded the longer Hongjoong didn’t move. 

As if he couldn’t believe that… that Seonghwa would believe him able to be the “good guy.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t stand it anymore. 

He rose to his feet quickly, striding the short distance between them, eyes burning the longer Hongjoong stared at him with such a heart wrenching, disbelieving, shocking to his core, miserable- 

Seonghwa hugged him tightly. 

He waited for Hongjoong to lose it at the intrusion- to shove him away, to break his arm, to suddenly find a knife to finish the job with… 

Hongjoong just stiffened into stone beneath his touch as Seonghwa held him firmly- giving room to draw away. 

But Hongjoong simply stood there. Not even breathing. 

“You’re still Hongjoong,” Seonghwa breathed, lungs constricting hard enough to choke him. “You’re not mine… but you’re someone’s. Even if your Seonghwa doesn't love you like I do my Hongjoong… I have enough faith in you… in your Seonghwa, in your Wooyoung and San and Jongho- I have to trust them… that their choice to follow you means that you… are someone worth the risk.” 

Hongjoong still didn’t move. Seonghwa tightened his grip, ever so slightly. 

Hongjoong wasn’t even breathing. 

But Seonghwa felt what felt like tremors in his body. 

Against all laws of nature and experience… Hongjoong did not shove him away. He did not embrace him back. 

But he did not push them further away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Lol~  
> I hope you enjoyed this! I had so much fun writing everything, thank you so much for reading!   
> Please let me know if anything was confusing!   
> Thank you again, and have a lovely day!!   
> -SS


	5. Our Scars Are Your Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!!   
> I enjoyed writing this chapter so much, and so I hope you all enjoy it as well!  
> I have a general chapter count, and that may be increased by a chapter, but I’ll set it as that for now!   
> Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think, and I hope all of you have an amazing day~~ 
> 
> -SS
> 
> TW: This chapter does have descriptions of psychological torture and PTSD flashbacks and violent episodes

Seonghwa was where he always was when one of them was in the infirmary. 

Working. 

Usually, this meant following up on leads, speaking with the others about their work, reviewing reports, double-checking logs… 

Right now, it meant staring at the red cover book that was supposed to hold answers and trying to make himself move to open it. 

It wasn’t the thought of opening that was making him immobile. 

It was the scene replaying, over and over in his mind. 

Yeosang, pale on the floor with blood already seeping into the carpet. 

And Hongjoong… Hongjoong screaming for him. 

Seonghwa had never… never seen such open fear on Hongjoong’s face. Never heard such a desperate cry for him. Never seen something so uncontrollably terrified, his hands slick with blood- 

Seonghwa hadn’t even had time to question Hongjoong’s state of undress as he stared- the entire sight punching the wind from him like no other ever had. 

His Hongjoong- the real Hongjoong- had faith and confidence to spare. 

The idea of any of them dying was so unthinkable, it never crossed into any of their minds. Hongjoong would have shown no emotion other than a dark stoicism that turned to rage as he tracked down whoever had done this. 

Never had he kneed beside their bleeding bodies with such agony and helplessness. 

Never did he fear. 

Fear meant doubt, and Hongjoong never doubted their strength- no matter how grim and hopeless it seemed. 

That was why Seonghwa was still here, even after everything that happened to him. Why Hongjoong was still here. 

Why all of them were still here. 

Hongjoong gave orders not to die. 

And they never disobeyed orders. 

Eventually, the memory of fear in Hongjoong’s eyes became too twisted- Seonghwa snatching the book up and opening it quickly, staring at the illustration of a man walking. 

Anything to rinse the sight from his mind. 

Seonghwa was under no illusion that his leader was infallible or invincible. 

He knew that under each hard set of Hongjoong’s eyes or thin press of his lips was something that begged to feel fear and show it. He knew that eventually, suppressing all that emotion threatened to break him in more ways than one. 

He had seen Hongjoong hanging by a thread- only ground to the present by Seonghwa’s voice demanding that he snap out of it, pull himself together- 

Hongjoong could never hear gentle promptings, and they didn’t have the time for niceties, anyway. They needed Hongjoong with them  _ now _ , at  _ every moment.  _

If that meant slapping Hongjoong across the face when his eyes were too distant, his mouth too silent for too long… then so be it. 

If it meant pinning Hongjoong down when he was about to run into a suicide mission for the sake of revenge for their fallen teammates… then so be it. 

This is what he and Hongjoong had always been- witnessing and fixing themselves at their worst. 

“Fixing” was perhaps a strong word. “Gathering” may be better. 

Seonghwa was the one who was entrusted with Hongjoong’s quiet doubt and raging fear that he refused to really let himself feel. 

Hongjoong was the one entrusted with snapping his fingers when Seongwha stared a little too long at the walls of Capital when they ran through. 

The fear that Seonghwa had seen on  _ this  _ Hongjoong’s face… 

It was like every ounce of fear his Hongjoong had never allowed himself to feel, erupting to the surface until he was practically faint with terror. 

Seonghwa slammed the book shut when it did nothing to calm him, picking it up swiftly and moving from the Hall into the study, glancing around. 

The base was quiet- Mingi and San assigned to tracking where Yeosang had been and… taking care of whoever had done this. 

Their leader was gone. It was up to Seonghwa to ensure that those who hurt them paid for it dearly. 

He stepped into the entrance hall, glancing over the dark stain on the floor and Hongjoong’s stained shirt laying limply there with blood dried and dark on it. 

He walked away, striding through the empty rooms, glancing around. He didn't know where Hongjoong had gone after they took Yeosang. Seonghwa wasn’t looking for him, though. He was just ensuring everyone was accounted for. 

Wooyoung sat in the library. Not reading, but laying on a couch, staring at the ceiling with a file laying on the ground next to him- attempting to work, but failing, as Seonghwa had. 

“Anything from Yunho?” Seonghwa asked, Wooyoung not startling at the sudden voice, simply sitting up with a groan. 

“Last I heard, everything was under control,” Wooyoung sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “He’s been stable the last few hours. I think Yunho went to shower.” 

Seonghwa nodded, knowing there had not been any real danger for Yeosang. “And Hongjoong?” he questioned, voice even. 

Wooyoung huffed, shaking his head. “I stopped him from having another breakdown- he was just sitting there and staring at the blood on his hands.” He almost laughed. He didn’t, simply huffing again. “It shows how much of that he’s seen in his life.” 

Seonghwa idly wondered what it might be like to be from a world that didn’t have your companions showing up with blood rushing from their sides on the regular. 

“Where is he now?” 

Wooyoung shrugged. “I left him in the bathroom when he started sprouting that friendship bullshit again. Haven’t seen him since. Thought I saw the bedroom door closed, though.” 

Seonghwa hummed, sweeping from the room without another word. 

Hongjoong’s room, though, was empty. The bed was a bit wrinkled, so he likely stayed for a while, but he wasn’t there now. 

He double-checked the study, the bathroom, the dining area… He didn’t see Hongjoong anywhere. It was possible he was holed up somewhere, but Seonghwa wasn’t supposed to be looking for him. 

Seonghwa felt an itch under his skin. One that never used to accompany one of them being injured. 

Everything was thrown off, now. 

He sighed harshly, walking to the door beside the kitchen and walking down the stairs, his boots clicking on the stone quietly. 

The infirmary was in the basement- protected by the structure of the house, in case something should happen. In the case of the unimaginable, it was a bunker. 

It was nothing more than a room with a curtain down the middle- one side holding equipment and supplies, and the other holding a row of beds. 

On the first bed, Seonghwa could see Yeosang. 

And beside that bed, kneeling on the floor, facing towards the stairs, was Hongjoong- his hands grasping one of Yeosang’s and his head bowed to rest on their joined hands. 

And for one, terrifying moment, Seonghwa thought it was his Hongjoong. 

But at the same time, he knew it couldn't be. 

He thought it was, though, because Hongjoong was not wearing those stupid, flimsy clothing anymore, but a black suit that fit him perfectly- as if should, being made for his body exactly. 

Aside from the stark white hair on his head, there was nothing to indicate that it was anyone else than his Hongjoong. 

But he knew instantly that it wasn’t, because Hongjoong would never sit at their bedsides like that, practically bent over them like the world was on his shoulders. 

At most, he would stand at the foot of their beds, practically glaring with his hands behind his back and lips thinned to impossible lengths as he stared with the threat of murder and revenge on his tongue. 

But Seonghwa stood still for a moment, observing him with the book tucked beneath his arm. 

Hongjoong breathed quietly, back rising and falling, his forehead pressed to Yeosang’s hand that he grasped tightly. 

None of them would ever take such a position, unless something irreparable had been delivered. Even Yeosang himself would likely shove Hongjoong away at such a blatant display of affection, were he conscious. 

“You know he isn’t your Yeosang,” Seonghwa said, voice startlingly loud in the stone chamber, echoing back on them. 

Hongjoong jumped slightly, looking up. His eyes were tired, but not raw from crying, at least. 

“Though… I suppose I should thank you for saving him….” He added quietly, remembering the blood stained shirt laying in the hall.

He stared at Seonghwa for a moment, startled, before dropping his eyes to stare at Yeosang’s quiet expression. 

“It’s… it’s really hard to believe he isn’t mine when he’s like this,” Hongjoong murmured thickly. “Without the scowling and threats… there’s not much different about him…” He laughed wetly. “It’s even more terrifying because in my world… Yeosang is about as pure as you can get. And the thought that something could happen that would do this to him… It’s scary.” 

Pure. 

A word that could never describe any of them. 

Yeosang was perhaps more genuine than most of them- hiding his emotions perfectly until the moment they peeked out. 

Until the point that Yeosang decided to show what he felt, he was as still and quiet as a statue. Making him perfect for recon. 

And Seonghwa’s blood began to boil at the thought of him getting discovered. 

“He won’t die,” Seonghwa assured Hongjoong. “And he isn’t your Yeosang, you shouldn’t care either way.” 

Hongjoong was quiet for a long moment before humming quietly. “I thought… I thought the reason I panicked was because it was Yeosang…” Another long pause. “But then I realized… why the fuck shouldn’t I still be afraid for him? He’s a person- he was injured. Why should I only care if he’s my friend?” 

_ Because that was the only thing you could afford to care about.  _

Seonghwa didn’t say it, simply watching Hongjoong stare at Yeosang, as if asking him to wake. 

“You’re all human, aren’t you?” Hongjoong murmured, frowning deeply. “You aren’t copies, you aren’t clones… You’re people. With the same faces, but different experiences and lives… and your self.” 

“How introspective,” Seonghwa said, voice flat. 

“I was angry at you for wearing Seonghwa’s face but treating people like you do,” Hongjoong said quietly, never lifting his eyes. “I was so angry at all of you- for wearing the faces of the most genuine, loving people I had ever met, and using them for… all this-” He waved a hand. 

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together tightly. 

“But you aren’t them,” Hongjoong said heavily, though with conviction. “And I’m not your Hongjoong. I’m not a copy or a fake. I’m me. And he’s him.” 

“Is that what you do when you’re frightened?” Seonghwa scoffed at his pointless revelation. “Dissect the morality of man?” 

Hongjoong lifted firm, quiet eyes. “You get sarcastic when you’re defensive.” 

It was not fear that Seonghwa felt. Not even close. 

But the sensation that raced through his veins was something alarmingly close as Hongjoong simply stating that as fact. 

He dropped his eyes heavily. “My Seonghwa does, too,” He murmured. “I don’t know why you’re so defensive around me… but you don’t have to be. I’m not your enemy. I’m not looking for weaknesses or ways to attack you.” 

“You aren’t a threat to us.” 

“Aren’t I?” Hongjoong asked swiftly, looking up sharply, making Seonghwa stiffen. He lifted a slow eyebrow. “For someone who claims I’m not a threat, you act very carefully around me.” 

Seonghwa’s fist curled slowly at his side, a warning racing through his blood as Hongjoong frowned at him, like he was begging Seonghwa to let him understand. 

“I don’t know why you’re afraid of me-” 

“I am not afraid!” he barked. 

“-but I’m not trying to make you that,” Hongjoong assured him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Seonghwa. I’m just…existing in the only way I know how.” 

Existing in a way that strayed so very close to what he wasn’t supposed to be. 

Hongjoong claimed they were separate entities with similarities. Seonghwa was having trouble with the separate entities part. 

He was everything Hongjoong might have been, Seonghwa was realizing. Had their world not been destroyed, had they not been forced to survive, had they found each other as friends and not allies. 

And it was something startling… and horrifying to see. Because it was easy to accept life when that was all there was- when it was inevitable, in your eyes.

But seeing that there might have been another option… another outcome… 

One where you might have had time for love- 

It was unfair. And Seonghwa kept trying to shove it away, but it kept creeping back on him. 

The fact that this Hongjoong was so startling similar to his own… but was everything Seonghwa would never be able to give back to him. 

Seonghwa owed his life and more to Hongjoong. 

It felt like failing, being unable to give Hongjoong’s life back to him. 

But  _ this  _ Hongjoong was still frowning at him in pity. 

So fucking pathetic. Like an item you convinced yourself was useless to hide your desire for it. 

“All of you,” Hongjoong went on when Seonghwa said nothing. “I know that everyone hates me for what I replaced, but they all still stare at me, like they’re waiting for me to turn on them or something- I don’t want to hurt anyone, Seonghwa. I just want to be trusted and then go home.” 

Yes, that was all any of them wanted. To reverse what had happened. 

Hongjoong took a slow breath that he held for a moment. “What is that?” he questioned, voice raising in curiosity. 

Seonghwa had to follow Hongjoong’s gaze to see him staring at the book beneath his arm. 

“A book,” he answered shortly. 

“Funny,” Hongjoong replied flatly, straightening. “That’s the one by that guy who was ridiculed?” 

Seonghwa nodded. 

Hongjoong held his hand out, rising from his knees and slowly releasing Yeosang’s hand. Seonghwa almost wanted to scoff and refuse. 

But against his will and without conscious decision, he stepped forward, holding out the book that Hongjoong took carefully. 

He looked so startlingly like Seonghwa’s Hongjoong. 

The pull of his brow, the tug on his lips, the darkening of his eyes with thought… It was only made more violently abrasive by the dark clothing that matched. 

Hongjoong flipped through the pages, lips moving silently- 

His eyes widened. “This one has 23 pages!” Hongjoong burst, shoving the book back at Seonghwa. “Look! Chapter 10, page 23, paragraph 5, line 9!” 

Seonghwa glanced down at the page he pointed at. 

It was a page Seonghwa recognized the first few sentences of. He’d read it before, while searching through the book. 

“No other book I’ve looked through has all the numbers available!” Hongjoong said, eyes brightening with discovery. “This one does, though! It makes sense- everyone knew about the author of this book, right? That other book was practically calling him a liar, it makes sense they’d make a note referencing his book!” 

He slapped his forehead, like he couldn’t believe he had missed it, despite never seeing this book but once. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said firmly, pushing the book down. “I’ve read this page- it’s nonsense. The whole thing sounds even more inexplicable than the talk of vibrations.” 

Hongjoong didn’t even appear to hear him as he bent over the book. “Line nine…  _ ‘Though many prefer talk of a universe in motion, there will never be an instance where such a matching is possible- and I, contrary to those who believe such mess, believe the walls between worlds not to be a product of vibrations… but of square holes with diamonds trying to fit through them. _ ’” 

Hongjoong’s brow pulled down further. 

“This definitely matches up with what the page in that other book was talking about!” Hongjoong said firmly. “The vibrations- this author is claiming that it’s not vibrations it’s-” His eyes skipped further along the page. 

Seonghwa remained silent, oddly unwilling to interrupt. 

“He thinks that it’s a question of timelines matching up,” Hongjoong reported. “That we operate on the same line, but at different points than our other selves- like turning a diamond and making it a square to fit through! Synching that up would open the gate.” 

On his first reading, Seonghwa had labeled it all as ridiculous. 

But, shown alongside their previous readings and with Hongjoong’s eyes staring at him, as if he was so certain that everything here lined up… It made it perhaps a bit more believable. 

It was always so easy to trust Hongjoong when he spoke with confidence. 

Even this Hongjoong whose eyes continued to scan the page. “Holy shit,” he murmured, frowning deeper. “‘ _ It is my belief that every version of ourselves acts independent of each other. The only thing connecting us being the makeup of our souls. When our physical bodies line up with each other, it is like a key fitting a lock- passing through and entering another world. _ ’” 

Seonghwa stomach clenched. 

Impossible. 

“You said you were sleeping when you woke up here,” Seongwha said darkly. Hongjoong nodded quickly. “My Hongjoong was also preparing to sleep.” 

“That’s it then,” Hongjoong breathed, eyes widening brightly. “That- It matches with his theory- one soul, but if we both fell asleep at the same time, it must be the reason we switched!” 

Seonghwa felt dread flood his veins as Hongjoong’s expression fell. 

“How the hell… That’s like a one in a million chance,” Hongjoong murmured worriedly. “If that’s really how we swapped than it would make sense for the way we get back is to line up again, but that begs the question-” 

“How do we make you line up again,” Seonghwa said darkly. 

Hongjoong stared up at him- wide eyes that almost came across as trusting. As if he was hoping Seonghwa had the answers. 

Well, he would be sorely disappointed. 

And he very clearly was, his shoulders falling low as he stared at the book, something in his expression tightening, his knuckles white on the book. 

Seonghwa frowned gently. 

Hongjoong wet his lips slowly. “Seonghwa… how the hell are we supposed to line up? That’s nearly impossible- it was probably a fluke that created this mess in the first place, so how…” 

Hongjoong faded out, and Seonghw saw something he should never see in Hongjoong’s eyes as he glanced up at him. 

“It took years- what if we just never line back up?” he murmured fearfully. “What if I just never go home? What if you never get your Hongjoong back?”

And rather than acute horror at the thought, Seonghwa only found himself narrowing his eyes accusationally at Hongjoong. 

“Are you  _ giving up _ ?” he demanded. 

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, something startled in them. “N-No,” He burst. “No, but- Seonghwa, how the hell are we supposed to do anything? It was a fluke-” 

“So you are giving up,” Seongwha snapped. “You’ve decided it’s too difficult-” 

“I’m not giving up!” Hongjoong snapped back, fists clenching defensively at his sides. “I want to get home- I’m just trying to see what the hell you think we can do! What the hell can we  _ do,  _ Seonghwa?”

“Nothing, if you keep wearing defeat like it’ll save you,” he said roughly, that familiar discomfort in his soul. 

_ Hongjoong  _ did not give up- and Seonghwa wouldn't let this version of him tarnish that by being afraid. 

“I’m not-” 

Hongjoong cut himself off, and Seonghwa saw his eyes shining, threatening to let tears fall, his breath coming a little quicker, like he kept missing his chance to speak. He didn’t snap at him this time. 

Honestly, Seonghwa had forgotten that this Hongjoong was that vulnerable. 

Hongjoong’s lips trembled where he stared in anger and then tired fear. 

“Seonghwa… Seonghwa, I can’t-” 

His voice nearly broke, and Seonghwa’s fists clenched at his sides as Hongjoong shook his head slowly, shoulders falling. 

“I don’t know what to  _ do, _ ” he whispered weakly, hands clenching desperately. “From the very beginning… I’m so lost and I’m so  _ scared, _ Seonghwa, you can’t even imagine-” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth to snap something- 

“And I’ve  _ tried! _ ” Hongjoong hissed, his voice dying into a quiet murmur. “I’ve tried so fucking hard to be strong and keep it together and be useful- but I haven’t slept in two days, I’ve  _ never  _ really known what’s going on, and  _ now  _ I’m trying not to think about the fact that I’ll probbaly  _ never  _ get home-” 

“You said you weren’t giving up,” Seongwha snapped, stomach curdling. 

“Can you  _ please  _ try and see this from my perspective, Seonghwa- For God’s sake!” Hongjoong cried, hitting his chest. “I’m not a soldier ! I’m not your Hongjoong- I’ve never fought or been in danger in my fucking life! You keep demanding these things from me, and I have been  _ trying  _ to give them to you, Seonghwa- Can you not fucking tell how fucking  _ hard  _ I’m trying to be what you need-” 

The phrasing made Seonghwa’s heart freeze in his chest as a tear streaked down Hongjoong’s cheek. Just the one, though. 

Hongjoong’s hands shook as he slammed the book shut. “I’ve tried to hold it together, I’ve tried to be smart about it, to keep looking for answers, to not get in your way- And I know I fucking suck at it, but you  _ cannot  _ deny that I’ve  _ tried,  _ Seonghwa.  _ Haven’t I _ ?” he demanded. “Haven’t I tried?”

Hongjoong stared at him, wild and desperate, appearing only moments from breaking apart at the seams. 

Part of Seonghwa wanted to slap him, to demand he get a hold of himself. 

That was the only way he knew how to calm Hongjoong. 

But the foremost part of Seonghwa’s instinct told him to draw Hongjoong away from the bed with Yeosang, despite being unconscious. It told him to take Hongjoong somewhere private, somewhere he could break in peace, somewhere he wouldn’t be taunted by the eyes of his subordinates. 

But that was not that Hongjoong. This was not their leader. 

But this Hongjoong…  _ had _ changed. He  _ had  _ pulled himself together, he had called a truce between them. 

He had discovered the numbers, figured what they meant, found their answers- for all intents and purposes, Hongjoong had been brilliant, like his Hongjoong would be. 

But he was staring at Seonghwa, finally reaching a breaking point from his collectedness. 

“You have,” Seonghwa said, the words flowing almost familiarly- Hongjoong’s frantic voice followed by his calm one. 

“I’m not- I don’t want-” Hongjoong shook his head roughly, dragging his hands through his hair. “How am I supposed to think there’s a way back?” he whispered brokenly, staring at Seonghwa and begging for answers. “How can you expect me to sit here and think that I’ll ever be able to find that window again, and go through it?” 

Hongjoong threw his hands in the air helplessly, eyes shaking. 

“I’m not giving up, Seonghwa,” he whispered, “But you have to agree that this is pretty fucking hopeless- I just want to go  _ home _ , Seonghwa,” he hissed painfully. “I just want to go home, and I know it’s selfish when you’re missing someone, too- But I can’t- I can’t  _ do  _ this anymore, Seonghwa- I can’t keep pretending-” 

Hongjoong let go of a broken breath, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. 

“I’m fucking scared, Seonghwa,” he whispered roughly. “I’m so fucking scared, and I have never in my life felt so alone next to people I know so well-” He choked on a breath that left him taking a deep breath to hold himself together. 

Seonghwa had never seen Hongjoong break quite like this. 

“You talk about your Hongjoong,” he croaked weakly, lowering his hands. “And you talk like he’s this amazing person who never breaks, who always knows how to put others first- I can’t do that, Seonghwa,” he hissed. “I’m not like that- I’m fucking weak and clingy and I can’t go three seconds without needing a hug, and I just feel like there’s a million miles between me and you-” 

The words just kept coming, faster and faster as Hongjoong breathed shallower, choking on half-sobs that never quite fell. 

“You’re  _ not  _ Seonghwa,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “You’re not, but you’re so much fucking like him- I can’t  _ stand it _ . Because I keep looking at you, and I just want to do what we’ve always done, and I  _ can’t.  _ You’re not him, it’s not my right to have that, and it’s not your job to give it, but I-” 

“Hongjoong.” 

He sucked in a sharp breath, looking up frantically, tears streak on his face and startled desperation in his eyes. 

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” He said flatly. “Calm down.” 

Hongjoong continued to stare, as if he wasn’t quite sure what Seonghwa was saying, but his breathing at least was more even. 

His hands shook where they hovered in front of him, damp eyes boring into Seonghwa painfully, so weak and desperate- 

And yet… not so different from the eyes Seonghwa had once seen staring at him from Hongjoong. The eyes and trembling hands that Seonghwa had once grabbed and held still before they could hurt someone. 

Perhaps… Perhaps this is what his Hongjoong might have been… if they had succeeded in breaking him. 

And that thought sent a terrifyingly sharp sword through Seonghwa’s heart the longer Hongjoong stared. 

“Seonghwa…” 

Seonghwa had never quite heard his name whispered so gently. Only something close to it. 

_ “Seonghwa…”  _

_ “It’s been days without sleep, Hongjoong. Nothing will happen to you, you’re safe here-”  _

_ “It’s never about what they do to you,” Hongjoong hissed frantically. “They never lay a hand on you, Seonghwa, that doesn’t mean they can’t hurt you-”  _

_ “I will wait here for you. You can’t keep on like this, Hongjoong. Within the next day, you’ll likely fall unconscious anyway. Sleep. Do not make me beg you.”  _

_ “Heh. You’ve never begged for anything in your life.”  _

_ “That’s a lie, and you are well aware of that.”  _

_ “Do you really think begging will work?” _

_ “I’m prepared to find out, Hongjoong. Though I will ask that you not make me.”  _

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong repeated, expression pinching. “I just…  _ I really fucking need a hug,”  _ he cried, eyes filling with more tears. “Please, Seonghwa, I just need something. Just for a moment…” 

_ “Don’t leave.”  _

_ “I wasn’t going to, Hongjoong. I was moving to the chair.”  _

_ “Stay,” Hongjoong breathed roughly, his hand tight on Seongwha’s wrist. “Just for a moment.”  _

_ “I’ll stay the night, if you ask me to.”  _

Seonghwa felt like he was caught in a riptide. A tug of war, a hurricane- tugging him this way and that, demanding his attention at the past and present, the real and the fake, the do and do not, his memories and his reality…. 

Hongjoong was shaking. But he did not storm forward to take the comfort he wanted. 

Why should he want comfort from Seonghwa? Did he plan to lie to himself, convinced that it might be his own again? Hongjoong would likely leave any embrace more upset than he entered it. 

Seonghwa wondered how only days ago he had been practically spitting at Hongjoong for such displays. 

Things changed. 

Not really. They hadn’t really changed. 

Perhaps Seonghwa was just showing how weak he truly was. 

Before Hongjoong could shake into nothingness, Seonghwa pressed his lips together. “Very well,” he said quietly. 

Hongjoong looked as if Seonghwa had just struck him across the face. 

Seonghwa didn’t move. “I don’t know what sort of comfort you think you might gain from me… but if it stops you from breaking down when we need to focus the most… then so be it.” 

It was a very official answer… for something that was flashing across Seonghwa’s memories like a bullhorn. 

He expected Hongjoong to break free like a tethered dog- crashing into Seonghwa with the force of days of being lost, ignored, threatened, tormented… 

But Hongjoong simply stared in disbelief, lips shaking as he silently double checked that Seonghwa was serious. 

Very rarely- even in their darkest times- had Seonghwa ever provided any sort of physical comfort to Hongjoong aside from a firm grip on his hand or a quick embrace that hurt more than it comforted. 

They were grounding holds that his Hongjoong may have drawn comfort from, but that was not their purpose. 

However, as Hongjoong slowly shifted forward, like he was waiting for Seonghwa to yank away, there was nothing grounding occurring. 

When Hongjoong lifted trembling arms the closer to got, there was no illusion of swift, efficient motions meant only to keep someone going the next step, the next day, their next breath- 

Seonghwa waited for Hongjoong to break and crash into him like days of loneliness and spite rushing over sand. 

But until the last moment, Hongjoong walked like he was in a dream. 

Seonghwa shifted his arms minimally as Hongjoong was suddenly standing toe to toe with him, his arms slowly… slowly wrapping around Seonghwa’s waist gently, as if he thought he might bruise… 

Seonghwa held his breath as Hongjoong slowly… slowly… slowly… lowered his head to rest against Seonghwa’s chest. 

Hongjoong didn’t squeeze him. Didn’t sob into his chest. Didn’t tug Songhwa closer and cling like a child in a storm. 

He rested his head like a wary wanderer, finally taking a brief rest from his constant movement. 

Like a car, puttering out with no gas left to fuel it. 

Hongjoong leaned into Seonghwa gently, as if afraid of pushing too hard. His arms didn’t grasp and pull, but his fists curled in the back of Seonghwa’s shirt- not yanking, just resting them there, the tremors from them traveling to Seonghwa’s skin. 

Hongjoong shuddered quietly, a harsh breath being released as he melted against Seonghwa’s chest slowly, like he was slowly losing the will to hold himself up. 

Hongjoong simply stood there, like a plant receiving sunlight- soaking up a distant presence and turning it into enough to live by. 

Hongjoong took quiet breaths, one of the choking slightly as an almost-sob nearly escape. Hongjoong swallowed it , though, turning to rub his face against Seonghwa’s chest gently. 

Like a cat. 

Seonghwa had been in countless survival, life-and-death situations, but never had he felt so lost as he did in this moment, Hongjoong’s shaking breaths fanning across his chest. 

Of course, the obvious action was to embrace him back. 

The most Seonghwa had ever done for his Hongjoong was a quick embrace when one of them narrowly escaped- nothing more than a quick bump of their bodies to show they were alright before running off. 

His Hongjoong had broken down before, but never so close to Seonghwa. Never in such an obviously dependent position. 

Tentatively, gently, slowly, Hongjoong shifted a bit closer- still not rushing forward, but relaxing against Seonghwa as their chests touched and they stood flush- head to toe. 

It felt like such an intimate position, compared to the norm. But Hongjoong breathed like he was getting air for the first time in days. 

Seonghwa supposed it wasn’t doing anyone much good, the two of them just standing there. 

He stared at the white tips of Hongjoong’s hair, feeling each centimeter his muscles relaxed. 

He suddenly felt a dampness through his shirt, and he hadn’t even noticed Hongjoong’s silent tears soaking through his shirt. He didn’t hiccup or sob. 

He just buried his face deeper, shaking breath after shaking breath. 

Carefully… Seonghwa resting a light hand at Hongjoong’s side. Not even holding, simply resting his hand there. He couldn’t bring himself to do more. 

But Hongjoong laughed gently, ducking his head further and voice coming out thick and weak. “Thank you,” he managed wetly. He head ducked further, grip tightening behind Seonghwa. “Really… thank you…” 

Seonghwa wanted to ask how long this hug needed to last for, his back aching from how still he stood. 

Hongjoong was warm. 

It took a few minutes, but Seonghwa could feel the gentle pulse of body heat from him against his chest, began to notice the gentle rise and fall of Hongjoong’s chest against his, the way his fingers flexed in Seonghwa’s shirt- 

Is this what Hongjoong did with his Seonghwa? 

No, Seonghwa could tell that Hongjoong was making allowances for his comfort, but it was likely a similar experience. Probably with much more return from the other party than what Seonghwa was giving. 

It might have been an entire hour that passed, but Seonghwa wasn’t counting anything but the quiet breaths from Hongjoong, more peaceful than Seonghwa had ever seen from him… 

Maybe it was more productive to give in to Hongjoong’s little needs like this, if it meant he stopped breaking down and hesitating because of how alienated he felt. 

Seonghwa, in no way, planned to make a regular event of this… 

But he began to realize, as Hongjoong had, that he was not his Hongjoong. 

He was different. He wasn't an imposter wearing his face… he was another person, who shared his features. Shared some base similarities, shared some fire and ferocity, some determination… 

But he was his own person. 

He was not making a mockery of Hongjoong… he was not tarnishing him… 

He was merely unfortunate enough to wear his face in a world where someone else with his face was desperately needed. Where things outside the norm were dangerous and scorned. Where things like heartfelt embraces and gentle touches were weaknesses that could cost you, if you let them linger too close. 

Seonghwa supposed… everything was just an unfortunate event… one right after the other. With no one to blame. 

And those were the hardest moments of all- when there was no one to blame but life itself. 

It was no one’s fault that Hongjoong had been discovered and taken to that Room. 

It was no one’s fault that Seonghwa had been given false intel and made a mistake that nearly cost him his sanity in that cursed Room. 

It was no one’s fault that this Hongjoong was standing in the wrong world, unprepared and frightened, struggling to stay afloat in an unforgiving world, among unforgiving people. 

Hongjoong laughed quietly into Seonghwa’s chest, his voice shaking. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured quietly, voice warmed through like honey. “I don’t know… if you have ever felt this… but have you ever had someone… that you can just  _ sit near…  _ and everything feels a little less shitty?” 

Seonghwa frowned gently. 

Hongjoong’s arms tightened almost imperceptibly around him, face hidden. 

“My Seonghwa was so good at making me feel better,” he whispered into his shirt. “Literally, I could have had the worst day ever, and just seeing his face… suddenly, things didn’t seem so bad. It didn’t fix it, but nothing could ever make me smile more than him asking how my day went…” 

Hongjoong sniffed weakly. 

And then suddenly pulled away, scrubbing at his face harshly. “Sorry,” he rasped quickly, face hidden behind his scrubbing hands. “That- That doesn’t have anything to do with you. I wasn’t- You’re not him, and you don’t need to hear me whimper on about him,” he chuckled, a little self-deprecating. 

Seonghwa… didn’t like the feeling growing in his chest. 

Because as familiar as Hongjoong’s spark and fiery and determination was… and as sickening as it was to see this Hongjoong so emotional with breakdowns and petty needs for comfort… 

Something was infinitely more disturbing about how dull Hongjoong’s skin looked. How low his head hung. How emotionless and flat his voice came out- neither crying nor angry. 

This empty looking Hongjoong… 

Seonghwa had vowed never to let it manifest again. 

“No,” Seonghwa said, voice heavy as he stared at Hongjoong who slowly glanced up with red eyes. “No, I don’t have someone like that.” 

Hongjoong’s pitiful face fell further, as if he suddenly pitied Seonghwa. He sniffed weakly, rubbing at his damp cheeks. “Your Hongjoong isn’t like that to you?” he questioned gently. 

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together. 

“No,” he replied shortly. 

Hongjoong’s presence had never made Seonghwa feel better- and he certainly never broke into a smile when he showed up. 

But… 

He cleared his throat, expression drawing downward at the memories. 

“But I suppose the closest thing I experienced is the relief of knowing Hongjoong is near,” He admitted. 

Hongjoong straightened slightly, looking curious. 

“Not happiness,” he said, expression wrinkling in distaste. “But when things seem hopeless and you have no idea how you’re ever going to get out alive…. If Hongjoong is there, I know we’ll make it.” 

“You trust him,” Hongjoong rasped quietly, nodding as if this made perfect sense. A watery smile stole his lips for a moment. “I guess it’s sort of the same thing.” 

Seonghwa didn’t really think so. 

But, like everything Hongjoong said, he could see where it was coming from. 

Because when they got separated, and Seonghwa was sure they were going to find out one of them was left behind- nothing could soothe the rising fear more than seeing Hongjoong running beside him. 

Hongjoong, who always had a million plans that should never work, but had never failed them. 

Hongjoong, who would sooner return to a place that had nearly broken him in two than allow even a single one of them to be harmed. 

Nothing was more comforting than that knowledge. And though Seonghwa couldn’t exactly liken it to what Hongjoong described… 

He supposed, at their basics… they were minutely similar. Given their startlingly different situations. 

“Did you-” Hongjoong cut himself off quickly, rolling his lips tightly. Seonghwa stared. Hongjoong looked apologetic. “Did you trust him, then?” he asked, voice weak and hoarse and pitiful. “When… When you were in that Black Room? Did you… Did you trust him to save you?” 

The questioned slapped Seonghwa across the face so violently, he couldn’t stop the way his expression twisted, defensive and protective, as if curling in on itself. 

Hongjoong winced. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bring it up-” 

“I did,” Seonghwa whispered, voice suddenly sticking to his chest as he stared at Hongjoong. 

He didn’t know why he had admitted that- 

He did know. 

He couldn't bear the thought of having this Hongjoong- of having  _ anyone- _ think that Seonghwa had ever doubted Hongjoong for a  _ moment _ . 

He hadn’t. 

Knowing that Hongjoong and his team would come had been the thing that kept Seonghwa from falling deeper. 

“I knew he would come,” Seonghwa pressed firmly, like Hongjoong was questioning him. “I knew he would not leave me. Even in that place that a single day felt like months- I knew he was going to come. He would not stop until he had found me-” 

Even in the moments when Seonghwa had cried… when it finally felt like too long. When the darkest parts of him whispered that no one coming, that they had abandoned him- 

Seonghwa still had the scars beneath his hair from where he would strike his head against the chains and cuffs, physically knocking the doubts and dark thoughts away. 

“That  _ torture chamber, _ ” he muttered lowly, watching as Hongjoong paled dangerously, “has hurt many on our team. None of us ever doubted that we would be rescued. We knew they would burn Capital to the ground before leaving us there.” 

This, Seonghwa had always known. Even when his voice seemed to be locked in his chest and his own mind couldn't find its way around- 

Hongjoong would come for him. 

That was a universal truth. 

The Hongjoong before him wore an expression of horror, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but also found his voice stolen. 

“The true horror of the Black Room is not what they do to you- they do nothing to you. It is the aftermath that follows you for years in the form of every dark thought and fear you can never shake off. You barely even know who you are as a person, and the only thing you do know is that you can never…  _ never  _ let yourself go back there.” 

The scars of the Black Room never truly left. They were hidden beneath new skin and healing time, but the scars went deep- down to muscle, and one that never mended completely. 

The thought that Hongjoong would end his own life before allowing them back there was the only thing keeping most of that darkness at bay. 

“You don’t understand,” Seonghwa said darkly, staring at Hongjoong who looked ill. “And that is why you can  _ never  _ understand. You have never had faith tested like we have.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, expression twisted in pity and fear and horror. 

Seonghwa somehow found the strength to continue looking at him.

Hongjoong took a shaking breath. “If… If it means sparing us that experience… then I’m… I’m glad I can never understand,” he admitted weakly. 

Seonghwa was silent for a moment, his chest growing heavy. “I would not sacrifice my trust in my leader for anything,” he said darkly. “Even for a chance to forget what that room was.” 

And this… was something Seonghwa had decided on long ago. 

Hongjoong cleared his throat roughly, scrubbing away the last of the tears, coughing harshly. When he straightened, he looked like he was trying to gather himself together. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice so full and genuine, Seonghwa almost sneered at it instinctively. “For… the hug and everything,” He said awkwardly, gesturing at Seonghwa. 

His face did wrinkle further at the half-smile Hongjoong wore, completely fake but a valiant effort. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong said, shaking his head roughly, shaking his arms, as if limbering up for a race. “Okay- how do we do the impossible?” he asked, his voice gaining back a weak motivation. “How do we align our worlds again?” 

Seonghwa lifted a slow eyebrow. 

He expected another round of tears, perhaps an emotional speech from Hongjoong to follow everything he’d heard and revealed. 

Hongjoong shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “The breakdown time is over,” Hongjoong assured him, voice still rough. “It’s time to get back to work- It’s going to be impossible to line up our actions, like we did unknowingly. So where do we start when we’re looking for a miracle?” 

In any other circumstances? Seonghwa would be looking to his leader. 

And when Hongjoong had no ideas, he would look to Seonghwa. 

Both of them stood there, more lost than before, and Seonghwa pressed his lips together, taking Hongjoong’s offered determination and not shoving it away. 

He felt… unsteady from the memories, but if Hongjoong was not going to break, Seonghwa certainly would not let himself. 

They had a blank map, now they needed to fill in the lines to fix this mess. Even if the company was… less than perfect. 

“We’ll talk with the others,” Seongwha said firmly, watching how Hongjoong straightened further under the rough orders. 

It was an odd sight, being the one to give Hongjoong orders. 

“And we’ll work from there.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes gained back a weak spark- like an ember trying to catch a damp log, but it was struggling so valiantly to do so. 

Even as Hongjoong was weak and emotional… Seonghwa supposed he did have some power behind him, as well. Nowhere near as strong as it should be. 

But perhaps… strong enough, for now. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong sat across from Seonghwa at the little kitchen table, his skin still burning from the sudden embrace. 

Shock, more than anything, had kept Hongjoong from shoving Seonghwa away- the sight and sensation of his second in command embracing him so firmly… In the aftermath, Hongjoong almost wanted to laugh at it. 

It seemed so utterly ridiculous. 

But… it was something Hongjoong had perhaps been holding his breath for. 

Now, they sat in heavy silence, their admitted truths hanging in the air as Seonghwa stared at a cup of coffee he had made himself and Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong stared into the dark liquid, pensive and more lost than he had been when he first woke up in this world. 

All the similarities between the worlds… all the differences… There was too much to understand and think about. 

But… underneath all the confusion and racing minds and panicked glances… Hongjoong had come to the conclusion that even though this Seonghwa showed it in completely different manners than his own Seonghwa… 

He was still performing those duties Hongjoong replied on him for. In more juvenile, patronizing ways that made Hongjoong shift with discomfort… but underneath it all, the intent, the purpose, the willingness was the same. 

This Seonghwa would do anything for Hongjoong- in whatever version or way he appeared. 

And that thought… had Hongjoong lost in his own mind more deeply than he could remember being in a while. 

That thought brought back memories that he did not want to revisit. 

That thought made him look at Seonghwa and realized that this Seonghwa was perhaps something Hongjoong might have appreciated, in those times.

In that aftermath of fear and weakness. 

It ultimately would have made it worse… but in Hongjoong’s desperation and near-madness, he could imagine finding someone a bit more gentle… a bit more empathetic… perhaps a comfort. 

At the time, he hadn’t  _ needed _ comfort. He  _ needed _ Seonghwa to drag him up from the ground by his collar, he needed him to shake him and yell at him to snap out of it. He needed the hands that pinned him down to a bed and forced him to tire himself out until he either fell asleep or fell unconscious after days of practically scratching at the walls. 

He needed the accusations of failure, of disappointment- 

He needed the knowledge that no matter what Hongjoong did, where he went, what was taken from him- Seonghwa had a fist in his collar, refusing to let him out of his grasp and yanking him back with a choking force when he wandered too far in his own mind. 

Comfort would have lulled Hongjoong into complacency. 

Hongjoong needed Seonghwa… more than he could ever bring himself to admit. 

“What are you thinking about?” Seonghwa murmured quietly in the silent kitchen. 

Hongjoong didn’t glance up at the soft voice, glaring into his coffee. “Why does it matter?” 

“Because you look sad.” 

His head snapped up, and Seonghwa’s expression held nothing but gentle concern as he gazed across the table at him. “I’m not.” 

“You are,” Seonghwa said assuredly. “What’s going through your head right now, Hongjoong?”

_ “I cannot help you if you don’t talk to me, Hongjoong- Just tell me what hells you keep seeing. Just tell me what is going through your mind-”  _

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on the mug. 

He did not like this Seonghwa’s perceptiveness anymore than he liked his own’s. Hongjoong had learned that his Seonghwa’s pervasive, drawing nature was something he needed to, and always eventually would, give in to. 

This Seonghwa had not earned that trust. 

And yet… the weight of memories were stronger than they had been in years. And Hongjoong had no reliable Seonghwa to lay their weight onto. But he would not tarnish Seonghwa’s memories by using some cheap substitute-

“Hongjoong.” He glanced up once more at Seonghwa’s sharper tone. The other stared at him- not pleading- but earnest. “I can’t understand much- or maybe even anything- that you’ve been through. But I can try and listen… Even if I don’t understand.” 

_ “You can never understand-”  _

_ “I am not looking to understand, I am begging you to allow the pressures you are forcing yourself to carry to be released. You are killing yourself, Hongjoong- Just rely on me this once, just for a moment, before the weight of this-”  _

Hongjoong’s hands were burning on the hot mug he clenched all the tighter, his jaw tightening. 

He dropped his eyes to the dark liquid, lips thinning dangerously as his expression hardened at the thought of talking about it again. 

Only one person in any universe knew the finer details. 

Did it technically count as two people knowing, if they were the same person? But they were not the same person. 

“In the Capital…” 

Hongjoong began speaking, as if testing how his tongue would react to the words. Seeing if his lungs would lock up, if his tongue would cut itself out, if his blood would cease to flow… 

There was nothing but Seonghwa’s head tilting in concerned curiosity. 

Hongjoong could just barely see his reflection in the dark coffee. Such a fitting metaphor. 

“In the Capital… there are horrible things,” Hongjoong said stiffly, muscles tensing. “Things that even my team and I would never dare consort with or resort to. Things that were developed for the sole purpose of punishing people.” 

The house creaked gently around them. 

“Punishing them for what?” Seonghwa asked, frowning. 

Hongjoong scoffed darkly. “Whatever the hell Capital decided the crime of the day was,” he muttered, watching Seonghwa’s expression open in shock. “Capital is the sole remaining place that isn’t completely burning. It was completely unburned, before my men and I got to it.” 

Seonghwa nodded slowly, and Hongjoong saw the moment he realized he had signed up for something bigger than he ever expected. And he saw Seonghwa brace himself, preparing for the weight he was about to take on. 

Hongjoong could almost respect him for it. Almost. 

“Among the top of those horrible things,” Hongjoong said, forcing his voice to remain level, “is the Black Room.” 

Seonghwa frowned, baffled by the name, and Hongjoong almost envied him the ignorance of what it was. 

“It is a room… that only three of my men have ever entered into.” Hongjoong’s voice began to turn raspy and he took a burning sip of coffee. “Wooyoung was only there for twenty minutes. They had grabbed him from the halls, but we retrieved him before he was there long.” 

Hongjoong spoke without letting the memories hit him. He did not think back to the cold ice in his chest when they realized Wooyoung was unaccounted for. Nor the panic (that he could never show) when they checked that horrible room and found him hanging there- a hundred chains holding him aloft with his head hanging limpy. 

He didn’t think of it. 

Seonghwa looked like he wanted to interrupt, but he remained silent, expression haunted and braced. 

“It is a pitch black room,” Hongjoong said slowly, the only way he could keep his voice from wavering. “You have no idea how large it is, but it echoes as if it never ends. There’s only ever one person in it: you. You are chained on your knees in the center of the room, and the only thing you ever feel is stone beneath your knees and the chains that hang around you.” 

He did not let the memory of icy metal that never warmed to his skin come up. He shoved back any thought of aching knees and bloodied wrists from how hard he struggled in the chains. 

Hongjoong swallowed around his dry throat, taking another stiff sip from his mug, not looking at Seonghwa’s expression. 

“No one ever comes in, after you’re first placed there” Hongjoong said darkly. “You just sit there… and you go mad.” 

No memories. No thoughts. 

“Wooyoung was in there for twenty minutes. He experienced nightmares for a while, was jittery and panicky for a few weeks… With reassurance and time, he left it in the past.” 

_ Those  _ memories did permeate his thoughts- all those nights of hearing crashing from the other room, of finding one member of his team or another pinning down a struggling Wooyoung. Weeks of dark circles and insomnia that was only cured by knocking him out with whatever they had in the infirmary. 

“Seonghwa-” 

His voice did not catch. But he hesitated, grip tightening as something curled in his chest. His throat closed up, as if not allowing him to divulge this secret. 

“Seonghwa was in there for a single day,” He said, a bit quicker. “Years later, he still did not forget what he saw there.” 

He left that part of the story before anything could creep into his mind, almost sounding eager to move onto his own section. 

“I… I was the  _ first  _ one they ever captured and put in that room among my team,” Hongjoong muttered roughly. “It was our first exposure to that Room. We didn’t know what it was. I was there for seven days before my team could locate and retrieve me.” 

“Holy hell,” Seonghwa whispered, utter disbelief and horror tainting his gentle voice. 

Hongjoong still did not look at him. “They never touch you. They never even enter the room. None of us can ever remember what we saw. We don’t know if there’s some sort of gas in the room, or if it’s just your mind playing tricks because of how empty it all is. But the things you see… you never remember what they are, but somehow you can never forget them.” 

Hongjoong knew he would see pity in Seonghwa’s face. Horror, pain, twisted disgust… but he knew that he would also see, still so ardently prominent, that gentleness… like a desire to carefully pry the pain and suffering from someone’s hands. 

Hongjoong and his team did not have the luxury of empathy. It was bad enough that one person fall prey to pain and anguish, they could not afford more to succumb to it. 

“There were several years of my life where I thought they had taken everything they could from me.” 

Surprisingly, Hongjoong found his voice stronger. There was no shame in the aftermath, Hongjoong had forced himself to realize in the following nightmarish years. 

“I didn’t know who I was, who I was supposed to be, who I had been…” Hongjoong’s hands released the mug before he could shatter it, drawing his hands to hold tight to each other in his lab. “All I knew… was that they had hurt me without even touching me. Unimaginably- but outside of any of my recollection. I didn’t know what they did, so I didn’t know how to claw my way out of the hell they had built around me.” 

Hongjoong remembered staring at himself in dusty mirrors, seeing a face, features, a body- but not seeming to recognize any of it. 

Like a wraith, who had forgotten what it meant to be human. 

He had tried to work, he tried to lead- and he largely succeeded- until the exact moments he didn’t. 

“I was a shadow of who I once was,” Hongjoong murmured, staring at his mug. “Someone who could operate within his team until the exact moment something in me would snap. It was never a pleasant ordeal for anyone. I wouldn’t sleep, I wouldn’t eat- I’d fight anyone who dared come near, and I nearly killed those people you claim I love so dearly.” 

The last part of his statement was supposed to come out rougher- like a disbelieving sneer. 

It came out too quiet. Too genuine. Hongjoong’s nails dug into his palms. 

Hongjoong remembered that. He may not remember what those monsters did to him, but he remembered every moment where his hand would fly to strike Wooyoung who came to report. 

Every snap that made San stiffen at such a retaliation. 

Every breakdown of him suddenly throwing objects from his desk- just to feel like he was still alive, that he was free to move, that he could feel things- 

That there wasn’t just darkness, there were no chains, no enemies- 

Seonghwa was the first… and truly the only one comfortable enough (or, perhaps, just desperate enough) to fight back at Hongjoong. 

To grab his wrist before he could strike. To restrain his arms when he tried to throw books with deadly accuracy. To practically pin him to the floor until his yelling broke through the static in Hongjoong’s mind that just told him to  _ run  _ and  _ fight  _ but  _ he didn’t know what he was running from or fighting against-  _

Hongjoong had never cried while among his team. The last time he had cried was when he returned from walking the area in search of food and found his home burned to the ground- the remaining bits of his family still inside. 

Nearly decades later, and the next time Hongjoong cried was while Seonghwa pinned him down before he hurt himself or another, and Hongjoong practically tried to bite the man while his legs kicked and his hand slammed against the floor- 

It felt like a waking nightmare. 

Like those dreams where everything was wrong and ominous and frightening- even if there was nothing but green fields and bright sun. 

Hongjoong kept seeing flashes from the corner of his eyes, his paranoia lighting up like a lightning rod in the sand, all of his senses suddenly kicking into overdrive as if he was being hunted down right that moment- 

Seonghwa would pin him down until he stopped thrashing. At that point, Seonghwa had enough decency to drag Hongjoong into the privacy of his room while he talked him down from whatever edge he stood on. 

“Seonghwa’s aftermath of the Black Room… was never violent,” Hongjoong muttered, shaking his head. “His was silent.  _ Days  _ without a word spoken- not even to aid our missions, and  _ weeks  _ of cornering him, to urge him into talking about what was going through his mind- because believe me, there was  _ something  _ tormenting him there, no matter how tightly he held it down.” 

His voice turned bitter, and he saw Seonghwa flinch from the corner of his eye. 

“Seonghwa was silent, even as his eyes begged to tell me something…” 

Hongjoong’s nails broke through his skin as he shook his head sharply, steering firmly away. 

He remembered those days. When he would go hours, searching for Seonghwa, only to find him staring at a wall somewhere, unresponsive. Even when Hongjoong would grab him and shake him, his eyes remained a million miles away. 

Worse, were the times when Seonghwa was staring straight at him, but never saying a word, no matter how Hongjoong coaxed him- either calmly or with threats. Those days of apathy and calm that made him seem like a corpse walking. 

Those were worse. When Seonghwa stared at him, acknowledged him, but never responded. 

“Seonghwa turned inward on himself, hiding inside a mind that tortured him. I was explosive. Dangerous. Emotional. Everything we could never afford to be…” He huffed. “My team, if they were smart, should have thrown me out.” 

“No, they shouldn’t have,” Seonghwa spoke for the first time, whispering out a quiet horror. 

His expression was stricken when Hongjoong glanced up, pale and horrified and twisted- 

“That wasn’t your fault,” Seonghwa whispered hoarsely. “They broke you- your team would have never thrown you out-” 

“I cost us valuable things,” Hongjoong said firmly, eyes darkening. “They never even considered it, but they should have.” 

“Would you have, if it was one of them?” Seonghwa asked, a hint of challenge. A test. A demand. 

“If you don’t already know the answer to that, then you haven’t been paying attention,” Hongjoong muttered darkly. 

“Then why would you want them to throw you out, just for being unable to handle what was done to you?” Seonghwa demanded gently, expression tightening in pity. 

“Because  _ I  _ was  _ supposed  _ to lead them,” Hongjoong snapped sharply, hand landing on the wooden table rather loudly for so early in the morning. “And I didn’t do that. Half of my duties fell to Seonghwa while I was blathering in insanity-” 

“That isn’t fair to you,” Seonghwa pressed sharply, bracing his hands on the table. “You had no control-” 

“It doesn’t matter!” Hongjoong snapped loudly, half-tempted to rise from his seat. He didn’t. “What was in my control, what was fair, what was the proper action- It does not  _ matter!  _ I was supposed to lead my team, and I  _ didn’t!  _ I left them to fend for themselves. Regardless of whether that weakness and abandonment was excused, it  _ still happened _ .” 

Seonghwa’s expression was quiet, almost angry at the unfairness of it. 

“We come from different worlds,” Hongjoong reminded him sharply, glaring. “What’s allowed in yours is not allowed in mine, and  _ weakness  _ is not allowed- no matter what causes it. For  _ years,  _ I was nothing but a burden to them, and I regret  _ every moment  _ I forced them to carry me when I should have been strong enough to walk ahead of them.” 

All those days when Hongjoong could do nothing but stare at his hands, as if he had suddenly lost them. The days when Seonghwa locked him in his room when they went on raids, knowing that Hongjoong would not willingly stay behind, but that he was too volatile to trust in the field. 

The betrayed and angry words that Hongjoong abused his team with- his own inner turmoil having nowhere to go but directly on to those closest to him. 

Seonghwa took the large brunt of that force. Namely, to save the others the misfortune of seeing it. But also, because he knew when Hongjoong came back to himself- and he would come back to himself- he would have wanted as little witness to those breaks as possible. 

Hongjoong hated Seonghwa, then. 

But afterwards he was faced with the realization of the debt he owed Seonghwa each time he saw his face. Just how much of himself that Seonghwa snapped into place over and over- each time Hongjoong ripped himself apart. 

Seonghwa liked to argue that Hongjoong had saved him too- drawing him out of his mind and unlocking the parts of himself that the monsters had locked away. 

Hongjoong saw it as nowhere close to the same thing. 

Because while Hongjoong had been desperate to make Seonghwa open himself back up, he had never had to pin down his closest friend who attempted to harm and destroy. He never had to pin Seonghwa to a bed for fear of what his addled mind may command him to do. 

He never had to snatch Seonghwa away from his team who were nothing more than innocent victims of his wrath, throwing him in a room and locking the two of them inside while he physically fought someone who was supposed to be his leader, his friend, his ally- 

Hongjoong was never put through the things he put Seonghwa through. 

And that was why Seonghwa owed no debt. But Hongjoong owed one too large to ever be repaid. 

“I have no regrets in my life but these,” Hongjoong said stiffly, darkly, angrily. For what I put them through- that’s a debt I try to repay every day. In leading them as best I can… and ensuring that not a single one of them is ever at risk to even fear going through the same things I did.” 

Those thoughts… were unimaginable to Hongjoong. The thought of one of his team losing themselves like Hongjoong did- it was enough (and the only thing enough) to make him sick. 

“I failed to protect Seonghwa from it, and I failed to protect Wooyoung,” he spat. “But at the very least, I was able to ensure they did not suffer as long as I did, and I did everything in my power to bring them back-” 

“Pain isn’t a competition, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered brokenly. 

“No, it isn’t,” He agreed flatly. “It’s life. And so is every other misfortune we’ve gone through. Us eight are all we have,” he snapped. “If I don’t protect them, who will?” 

“Do you think any of them are  _ okay  _ with how you feel about this?” Seonghwa demanded weakly, expression almost pleading. “Turning your experiences into a scoreboard with rankings?”

“I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t care,” Hongjoong said shortly, eyes narrowing. “I don’t protect them to earn their favor, I do it to give them another chance. They can hate me all they like, but they  _ will live  _ to hate me,” he promised in a harsh hiss. 

This, he had promised since the beginning. 

“Do you think my team has not spoken out in  _ multitudes  _ against my methods?” Hongjoong demanded, glaring. “Do you think they have not practically threatened to desert me, if I do not stop fighting so violently for them? Do you  _ think, _ ” he hissed, “that after living my life drowning in it, that I fear death  _ at all _ ?”

Hongjoong did not fear death in any form, other than in his team. 

Seonghwa was silent, expression oddly blank and gentle as he stared. “You said you would give them happiness, if you could,” He murmured quietly. “Do you think that they would ever be happy, knowing that you had died for them?” 

Hongjoong’s hands slammed on the table as he stood rough enough to knock his chair over. “Do you think they would be any  _ happier  _ being dead themselves?” he snapped. 

Seonghwa did not flinch. 

And the blank, knowing eyes that stared at him were too startlingly familiar for comfort. 

“I think,” he said calmly, “that there are very few pains greater than losing someone you care for.” 

“ _ Someone  _ is going to die!” Hongjoong yelled, hitting his fist against the table. “And I  _ will not  _ let it be them- I  _ swore  _ it would not be them-” 

“Hongjoong-” 

“Stop acting as if you have a right to speak on our morality,” Hongjoong sneered, glaring murderously at Seonghwa’s disgustingly calm expression. 

Disgusting… because it looked so startlingly like His. 

“I  _ will  _ bring my team through this,” he snapped. “And I  _ will  _ give up my own life in the process, if need be. You admitted to never understanding me, so cease your  _ stupidly  _ ignorant talks that are born from someone who has never made our decisions.” 

Hongjoong breathed a bit too heavily. His emotions… a bit too out of control. 

Seonghwa continued to stare blankly… 

And then his eyes dropped to his lap as his expression fell slowly. Hongjoong watched his shoulders bunch slightly. 

There was a long moment of silence that Hongjoong almost broke with a curse. 

And then Seonghwa swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I guess… I did it again, didn’t I?” 

He winced, glancing up at Hongjoong apologetically, lips thin. 

Hongjoong’s fist clenched painfully tight in defense. 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa murmured weakly. “I… I don’t like that mentality… and I don’t agree with it. But… you’re right,” he admitted painfully. “I’ve never been in that situation, I’ve never made that decision… I don’t have a right to lecture you on that.” 

Hongjoong took a deep breath and held it, eyes burning. 

Seonghwa fiddled with his fingers idly. “And I know… I know that if I were ever brave enough to survive that sort of life… I’d probably try and place their lives before mine, too,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to lecture you, after you’ve made such a hard choice… And after you’ve already done so much for your team.” 

It felt… almost like praise. But Hongjoong batted it away darkly as he righted his chair and sat down heavily. 

Seonghwa stared at his hands. 

“Our Hongjoong… always puts himself last, too,” he whispered, almost to himself. 

Hongjoong braced himself as Seonghwa continued to fiddle with his fingers. 

“Not… nearly so heroically,” he amended. “But… he’s really selfless- I’ve already told you all about that. Everyone’s needs, their problems, their burdens… all of them have to be fixed and addressed before his own.” Seonghwa laughed almost bittersweetly. “He is, somehow, always the last person in the world who is ever in need.” 

Hongjoong’s nails reopened the wound. 

_ “Seonghwa, I am the last person in this world who is in need.”  _

_ “That is a disgusting lie, Hongjoong.”  _

_ “I will get through this, I can promise you that. San is down, we need the extra people-”  _

_ “You going into a panicked breakdown in the middle of a raid is not the kind of people we need!” _

Seonghwa was always too cruel. Too harsh. 

He was exactly what Hongjoong needed. 

Because Hongjoong was too used to being in charge, to being on his own, to leading a team. He had never in his life ever answered to someone else- and Seonghwa was the poor bastard tasked with controlling and handling Hongjoong for the first time. 

Somehow, the distance between their worlds… was getting smaller and smaller. 

For every event and emotion Hongjoong had, it seemed like there was some sort of copy of it in this world, arranged and felt and dealt with in entirely different manners. 

But copies, all the same. 

And it both disgusted and… comforted? No, it was not a comfort. 

Perhaps pity was closer. 

Disgust and pity at the thought that someone else had suffered similarly, but completely differently. 

“You aren’t a bad person.” 

Hongjoong laughed, dark and disbelieving as he stared at Seonghwa incredulously. Seonghwa stared back… 

Still with that flash… that echo of trust. 

“Can you truly believe that?” Hongjoong scoffed. 

“I never said you hadn’t done bad things,” Seonghwa assured him, eyes firm. “But you aren’t a bad person. You said it yourself- you’ve never done anything for your own gain, or just to make people suffer. You did it all for your friends… for the things they asked you to do.” 

Hongjoong- ever since and long before his time in the Black Room- hated to be confined. 

Be it physically or metaphorically. And he did not appreciate the box Seonghwa had placed him in. 

The box was roomy and spacious- not cramped and dark. It seemed more like a terrarium, not a box. A place to grow and see progress. 

Hongjoong only saw another thing to lose in fire. 

“You think your opinion of me matters?” he asked skeptically. 

Seonghwa, rather than either backing down or firing forward, simply tilted his head. “Does it?” 

“No.” 

“Does your own Seonghwa’s opinion of you matter?”

“ _ No, _ ” he answered, voice dropping darker. “I’ve made him hate him before.” 

Seonghwa hummed pensively. “If he’s anything like me…then he never hated you.” 

“He did.” 

“Did he tell you so?”

“There was no way he could not have hated me,” Hongjoong spat. “I grounded him from raids and took his purpose away from him- he hated me.” 

“But he never said it,” Seonghwa pressed. “Do you hate him for all the things you say he did to you?” 

_ Never.  _

It was a snap- a hiss- on the tip of his tongue, vicious and poisonous at the thought of ever- 

But he stopped it. He refused to sound so desperate. His own Seonghwa or not, the face staring at him expectantly was still Seonghwa. And Hongjoong could not divulge that part of himself to him. 

“He did what was needed,” Hongjoong said lowly, voice controlled. “My feelings did not matter- he did what he  _ needed  _ to do. That is what we must always do.” 

“So, you don’t hate him,” Seonghwa said firmly. “Then why would he hate you?” 

“What is your obsession with analyzing my relationships with my team?” Hongjoong snapped, feeling as if the walls of his box were shrinking. “What do you gain in whether I feel genuine fondness or vague alliance with them?” 

All these circles. All these talks. All these emotions- 

Seonghwa was quiet, hands folded tightly. “I don’t like leaving emotions so tangled,” he admitted. 

“I never asked you to touch mine!” Hongjoong spat. 

“Oh, I never need to be asked,” Seonghwa assured him, as if that should be obvious. “I’m so nosy, my friends can’t stand it sometimes. But… I think emotions are like muscles.” 

Hongjoong actually rolled his eyes, but Seonghwa didn’t even seem to notice. 

That apathy to his annoyance was familiar. And uncomfortable. 

“You have to work them to properly know how to use them,” he explained gently. “And when they’re overworked, they hurt. And when they’re never worked, they’re atrophied. And when they get all tangled up in each other… it’s like a knot in your shoulder. It hurts to work it out, it hurts to massage it away and straighten it out- but you have to. It’s only healthy to-” 

“Why should I care about your poetics?” Hongjoong snapped. “They affect me  _ none _ .” 

Seonghwa closed his mouth for only a moment, as if silently scolding Hongjoong for interrupting. 

“I always liked psychology classes,” he said, as an aside. “My point… is that I grew up- and to this day- I am surrounded by people with emotions that are overworked and underworked and tangled beyond recognition… and I wanted to help that.” 

“I don’t want my emotions untangled,” he hissed. “You stupid-” 

“No one does,” Seonghwa assured him. “But I’ve gotten some pretty tough skin against the people who yell at me for prying.” 

“So, in short, you’re annoying.” 

“Most definitely.” 

Hongjoong’s fist clenched. Seonghwa was suddenly infuriatingly calm. As if he thought he was in complete control of the situation. 

Hongjoong couldn’t see the situation clear enough to know how much control either of them really had. 

“Hongjoong,” he said. 

That gentle, quiet, sweet tone saying his voice with such familiarity- 

“I’m not trying to analyze you,” he assured him gently. “I’m just… I just want you to be able to realize what you think of these people. What they mean to you-” 

“What does it matter what they mean to me?” he demanded roughly. 

“Because I don’t want you to go back to a world where dying is as common as breathing,” Seonghwa said sharply, eyes hardening, “without understanding the people you’re fighting beside. Because even if you aren’t my Hongjoong, I can’t fucking  _ stand  _ the thought of you denying everything those people are to you, only to lose them or for you to die without saying anything- without even  _ knowing- _ ” 

If Hongjoong were more well-versed at self-preservation, he would have snapped Seonghwa’s neck in a fit of rage. 

As it stood… Hongjoong merely stared at Seonghwa… 

And for the first time, he didn’t see his Seonghwa or this Seonghwa. 

For a terrifying moment, the two almost seemed to merge into just  _ Seonghwa.  _

And for a moment… Hongjoong couldn’t breathe. 

“It’s not my place,” Seonghwa said firmly. “But fucking dammit, Hongjoong- if there’s one thing my Hongjoong knows it’s that I  _ can’t  _ just sit by. Yes, I compulsively  _ have  _ to try and fix people, and, no, I shouldn’t always, but if there’s  _ one  _ thing you need to understand about me it’s that I can’t just  _ leave  _ people hurting!”

Seonghwa glared at him. Not angry. Just vehement in his belief in his actions. 

Hongjoong still couldn’t breathe. Seonghwa’s eyes were neither hard like his Seonghwa’s nor soft like this Seonghwa had been. 

It was just Seonghwa- like two slightly different images overlaid until you didn’t know which attribute went to which version- 

“Hongjoong?” 

A hand suddenly touched his arm gently, and Hongjoong jerked away, not having heard or noticed him standing up and approaching him- 

_ Seonghwa touched his arm- quite possibly the gentlest touch the man had ever bestowed on Hongjoong- causing his leader to jerk away, ripping himself out of his own head.  _

_ “You were doing it again,” Seonghwa said, voice heavy and quiet. Not accusing, but Hongjoong chose to view it as such.  _

_ He stared down at the log he was writing, ink dripping from his pen and ruining the page he hadn’t written on in probably minutes, lost in his head without a map.  _

_ “Take a break,” Seonghwa said, firm but coaxing. “You aren’t getting any work done.”  _

_ These were the times when Seonghwa was the closest to gentle he would ever see. When Hongjoong had stopped his violent outbursts and was just… lost. No longer angry and threatened, but lost with nothing to hold him down- wandering and wandering without any idea where he was trying to go, not knowing where exactly he was supposed to be-  _

_ Another firm touch to his arm to draw him back- he hadn’t even realized he was wandering-  _

“Hongjoong!” 

The sharp shake that Seonghwa administered made Hongjoong’s hand jump and snatch his hand. 

He didn’t shove it away. 

He simply held it tightly, his chest finally loosening its death hold on his heart and lungs.

When he glanced up, this Seonghwa’s gentle eyes stared down in fearful concern. “What the hell was that?” he demanded quietly, unbothered by Hongjoong’s grip on him. “You just spaced out- Are you okay?” 

Hongjoong’s instinct told him to shove Seonghwa away, to storm to the room and slam the door, safe in solitude. 

But he didn’t. Hongjoong grit his teeth, feeling like everything was tilting slightly. He released his stiff grip on Seonghwa, breathing deeply. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa coaxed again, hand hovering near him still, ready to touch and comfort. “Are you okay? Do you need something? A drink?” 

“No,” He said darkly, standing. Seonghwa did not back away from the sharp movement. “No, I just…” 

“Were you having some sort of flashback?” 

“No,” Hongjoong snapped, glaring sharply. And then his glare darkened. “How would you know that?” he demanded lowly. 

Seonghwa looked unsure. “Well, from the sounds of it, your personality is a walking PTSD textbook. You were spacing out, not responding… Is that what it was?” 

Hongjoong felt disconnected. Out of control. He glanced around the kitchen that was too bright, too white. 

“This is not my world,” he spat, tongue curling in anger. 

He wanted to go back to his world. Where things made sense, where he understood everything exactly as he needed to. 

Not this utopia where feelings ran rampant and people had enough luxury to care who got hurt. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Hongjoong glanced up at Seonghwa looked pained again, hands wringing in front of himself. 

“I’m sorry, Hongjoong…” he whispered. “I’d send you back in a heartbeat- even if it wouldn’t bring my Hongjoong back- I’d send you home if I could, believe me-” 

“I do.” 

The words came without warning or permission- both men standing there equally shocked at their admission. Hongjoong’s fists clenched tightly, his palm bruised from the abuse from his nails. 

He looked away- not in deferrence, but from the fact that it hurt looking at Seonghwa. Hongjoong didn’t even know what was hurting, but he did not want to see him. 

“Maybe I don’t trust you,” Hongjoong muttered darkly. “And I doubt I ever will trust you. But… I don’t think you a liar. I know you want me gone and out of your precious lives-” 

“That’s not why I want you gone,” Seonghwa broke in sharply, a flash of something in his watery eyes. “I want you to be able to go home to your team, to your world that you seem to still want, despite the war. I want you to go back because  _ you  _ want to go back.” 

Hongjoong scoffed. 

“If it were up to me, I’d almost try and convince you to stay,” Seonghwa laughed weakly, eyes wet. “Just so that I didn’t have to think about you living that sort of life.” He shrugged, wiping at his eyes. “But I guess… that’s not fair. Others are living that life… and they need you a lot more than I want you safe.” 

Hongjoong frowned. “Why would you ever want me safe?” he demanded. 

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together tightly. “If you don’t already know the answer to that… then you haven’t been paying attention,” He murmured quietly. 

Hongjoong glared. 

Because the obvious reason was that he was Hongjoong. And Seonghwa was projecting all his feelings and desires for his own Hongjoong onto him. 

But… Hongjoong knew that was false. Seonghwa had admitted that the two of them were different people- similar, but  _ different.  _ The eyes that looked at Hongjoong could  _ not  _ be the same ones that stared at his Hongjoong. 

No, Seonghwa was staring at Hongjoong as his own individual person. 

So why want him safe? Because he didn’t think Hongjoong was a bad person? Because it was the “morally correct” and “empathetic” thing to do? 

Hongjoong cocked a sarcastic eyebrow. “Because it’s the  _ right thing  _ to do?” he questioned exaggeratedly, eyes darkening. 

To his shock, though… Seonghwa shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “Because you’re someone’s Hongjoong- someone very important to them. And I don’t want them to have to lose you. But to keep you safe, I’d have to take you from them.” 

Hongjoong continued to glare. But he felt that discomfort beginning to root in his chest. Something that almost told him to admit defeat. 

Defeat to what? It didn’t matter because Hongjoong never admitted defeat. 

He grit his teeth, turning away. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered. 

It was not admitting defeat. It was him becoming tired of these conversations that did nothing but highlight how… how different their lives could have been, in another world. And Hongjoong did not envy this world- with its useless rules and high morals and stagnant society that allowed no one to go anywhere but where they were told. 

He did not envy Seonghwa and his friends the powerlessness they experienced. 

But… Hongjoong did think about the fact that he could have given his team a million more days to live in this world… than he ever could in his other. 

That alone… was enough to make him hate this world that was so different than his own. 

Seonghwa walked behind him, not trying to continue their conversation, but he stopped at the couch as Hongjoong continued walking. He paused at the door, glancing back at the folded blankets on the back of the sofa. 

His stomach turned as Seonghwa spread them out. 

“You used to share a bed with your Hongjoong?” 

Seonghwa glanced up quickly, like he had thought Hongjoong had already left. His startled eyes soon cleared… and then softened. “Yeah,” he murmured gently. “But don’t worry, I won’t make us both suffer through that.” He grinned, like a joke before it faded. “And you aren’t Hongjoong… so I wouldn’t be in that bed anyway with you in it.” 

Faithful to his lover. 

Was loyal a word to use? Hongjoong didn’t want to use it. Loyalty was for him and his team, not these- 

“Why not make me sleep on the couch, then, rather than giving up your room?” Hongjoong demanded. 

He did not regret displacing Seonghwa, but he didn’t know why Seonghwa would have given him this comfort. 

“In the beginning, it was because you were psycho,” he chuckled. Seonghwa smiled quietly as he picked up a pillow. “But then, if you’re anything like Hongjoong, you need your space. And I doubt your paranoid head would feel very safe out here in the open.” 

Hongjoong nearly snapped about the comment, until he realized that it was correct. Hongjoong likely would have never slept, exposed like this to anyone who passed by. 

So he turned swiftly, walking down the hall and slamming the door, regardless of the fact that it was nearing dawn. 

He cared nothing for these people and their comfort. 

He didn’t. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong sat at the breakfast table, his head low and his spirits even lower. 

He stared at the now-cold cup of black coffee he hadn’t drank, and the lukewarm food he hadn’t touched. 

The meeting with the others had gone as well as he could be expected. 

Read: they were nowhere further than they had been after realizing they needed to realign. 

Though, Hongjoong would admit, there was decidedly less glaring at him. Most of them narrowed their eyes but weren’t nearly as sharp. Did they think Hongjoong had been useful? Were they getting used to him? 

He pressed his lips together at the memory of hugging this Seonghwa. 

It was absolutely nothing like hugging his Seonghwa… The first time he had hugged this Seonghwa, it had only left him empty. Because he could  _ tell  _ it wasn’t his Seonghwa. He could tell, just from the amount of familiarity and comfort he lacked. 

But this time… Hongjoong didn’t try and convince him that it was his Seonghwa. 

Instead, it was just  _ someone  _ giving him a hug.  _ Someone  _ comforting him.  _ Someone  _ taking the time to let him take a break. Not necessarily Seonghwa, just someone nice enough to let him have a break. 

And that made it 100 times more effective. Hongjoong was still left on a slippery slope, but he had been able to catch his breath for a moment, and he felt better about resuming the climb. 

He glanced at the journal Seonghwa had given him- small and old, leatherbound- for the purpose of writing down anything he figured out, using it to map out possibilities. 

Basically, a brainstorming notebook. 

And it was blank, as it had been for the past several hours. 

Hongjoong stared at the blank page until it was no longer bearable, and then he would stare at his coffee until it was too much, back to the book- 

Repeat for several hours. 

Hongjoong’s hands were beginning to twitch. He sighed heavily, picking up his coffee and taking a quick sip, removing it too quickly. 

A splash of coffee got on his open page, and Hongjoong huffed, wiping at it quickly- 

The deep brown smeared into a lighter brown, the liquid sinking into the page and staining. 

He cursed echoing in the empty room he sat alone in. 

Hongjoong stared at it for a moment, at first wondering if Seonghwa would yell at him for staining it, and then… then he glanced back at the coffee. He drew the cup closer, glancing back at the blank page. 

A glorious blank page… Hongjoong had always had a Thing for blank pages. 

They were never a symbol of what he hadn’t started yet. They were a blank canvas that screamed at him to do  _ anything.  _ He could do anything to it, there was nothing predetermined. 

But this blank page was not for that…. He was supposed to be thinking of how the hell to get home. 

But Hongjoong was used to always drawing, always sketching- doing something. And he’d been so caught up in everything, he hadn’t even realized something had been tightening inside of himself until he saw that Blank Page with the little streak of color. 

Glancing around the empty room, Hongjoong tugged the notebook closer, dipping his pinky in the coffee and letting it drip for a moment before placing it on the page and  _ moving.  _

Coffee was a medium Hongjoong had only ever used a handful of times, and every time it had been a required assignment. He wasn’t fond of the lack of control, but his last assignment had shown him it was little more than sassy water colors- a little more free, but the same general concept. 

And hell, it seemed like the only kind of artistry he would find around here (it wasn’t until that moment, he realized Seonghwa had not given him a pen, so it was probably a good thing he hadn’t had a big realization, huh?). 

Even as Hongjoong painted, he felt the world beginning to slip away, like it always did. His vision narrowed onto the shading of the coffee as his pinky finger- much larger and denser than any brush- tried to create a coherent shape. 

Hongjoong didn’t like how it was turning out, but he had long since stopped doing art to make it look good. It was about the process. The methodology. 

“What are you doing?”

Hongjoong jumped, nearly knocking over the coffee mug he had been ready to dip back into. He caught it quickly, looking up at Seonghwa with the expression of a child with their hand caught in a cookie jar. 

Not being useful, was what he was doing. 

“I- Uh-” He glanced down at the journal that Seonghwa was already glaring at suspiciously. “I was… Uh, I was painting.” What point was there in lying? 

When Seonghwa moved forward, Hongjoong obediently moved the paper to show him, embarrassment heating his blood. 

What was his whole speech about trying to be useful?

“I was stuck and couldn’t think of anything,” he explained quickly. “And I wasn’t being useful anyway, and then I spilled the coffee and I just got an urge to-” 

“What is this?” Seonghwa asked, frowning more than he was glaring, picking up the book. 

The image was shitty, almost looking like a drip painting. It was barely outside the realm of abstract, but Hongjoong knew whose image it was. 

It was who he always drew when he couldn’t think of anything original. And Hongjoong’s tongue shriveled in his mouth as Seonghwa turned the page back to show Hongjoong. 

“Is this me?” he demanded roughly. 

You could just barely see it, but to Hongjoong (and someone wearing that face) the nose, the jaw, the eyes were unmistakable. 

Hongjoong winced. “I mean… it’s  _ my  _ Seonghwa, but yeah…” This was fucking embarrassing. Like the first time Seonghwa caught Hongjoong doodling their names together like a fucking teenager. 

Actually, it was very clearly Hongjoong’s Seonghwa because he was smiling. Barely there, and more with his eyes than his mouth, but it was clear. 

Seonghwa stared at the image for a moment longer, something almost conflicted in his eyes as he tossed it back onto the table much gentler than Hongjoong expected. “Is this what they use coffee for in your world?” he asked incredulously. “Here, we just drink it.” 

“W-We drink it, too,” Hongjoong said firmly, snatching the notebook back. “But sometimes you can paint with it, and I don’t have anything else to draw with and I’m basically going into art withdrawal-” 

“You do this often?” Seonghwa asked, tapping the book roughly. His expression was… almost confused. Annoyed, but the cock of his eyebrow made it seem like he didn’t understand. 

Hongjoong nodded. “I’m an art major.” 

“In college,” Seonghwa said, like it was a made up place Hongjoong had imagined. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“You’re attending school… to learn how to do  _ this? _ ” he asked flatly, gesturing to the page. Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Why wouldn’t you learn something useful?” 

It was almost like a trigger phrase. 

One that Hongjoong should have seen coming, but he was staring at Seonghwa, and Seonghwa had never belittled Hongjoong’s choices. 

His entire body tensed as something dark flooded his stomach. Despite the fact that the coffee was still way too wet, he slammed the book shut, standing quickly and grabbing it with a terse expression. 

“I haven’t been able to explain that to the dozens of other people who want to know,” He snapped bitterly, glaring at Seonghwa with a sickening drop in his stomach. “So I won’t bother explaining to you either.” 

Hongjoong tried to brush past him, his blood coursing with anger and betrayal- despite the fact that it wasn’t Seonghwa, but hearing Seonghwa’s voice so condescending about-

A hand caught him around the arm- not bruising, but firm- holding him back. Hongjoong looked back sharply, a glare and another snap ready on his lips because that was the thing Hongjoong was insecure about and constantly questioning, despite the fact he was set to graduate in less than a year- 

Seonghwa’s expression made him freeze. 

His eyes were hard, but there was more confusion, scanning Hongjoong up and down like he might find an answer. 

“That upset you,” he said, more of a question than a statement. 

Hongjoong wanted to tear his arm away and storm off, but he didn’t. He pressed his lips together. “Yeah,” he whispered in annoyance. 

“Why would something like that upset you?” 

And the part that Hongjoong hated was how genuinely ignorant Seonghwa’s voice was. As if his statement wasn’t intended to offend him, and he honestly didn’t know why it had. 

Because they didn’t have school here. They had fighting and death, so something like that must seem so fucking useless to them. Would a paintbrush help you stop a fucking knife in the back? No. 

So, Hongjoong sighed roughly, removing his arm from Seonghwa’s grip easily, but not running off. He clutched the notebook to his chest, controlling his annoyance enough to take a calming breath. 

If he couldn’t be useful, he could at least be diplomatic. 

“In my world,” He said heavily, still tinged bitter, “your area of study means everything. It decides what your future will be, what people will think of you, how they treat you-  _ everything. _ ” He huffed. “You’re supposed to pick useful ones with steady jobs like business and engineering or medical… Not… Not painting and  _ doodling, _ ” he scoffed. 

Seonghwa’s expression said that he was following, but he still didn’t understand. 

“I chose to study art,” Hongjoong explained. “I loved it, it was the one thing I had liked for my entire life, and I knew I was good at it. So I studied it, and the first thing that everyone wants to know is why I didn’t choose something useful, reminding me I’ll never get a job, asking why I’m studying this when I’ll just have to go back to school when I’m jobless and need a new major-” 

It made Hongjoong’s blood boil just thinking about it. 

“Why didn’t you?” Seonghwa asked, and once again, for probably the first time since coming here, his voice was not antagonizing. It was simply curious. 

“Because I would have been  _ miserable, _ ” Hongjoong snapped, not angry at Seonghwa, but at everyone else. “I was already questioning everything, starting college and everything being crazy, but at every turn people were looking at this thing I  _ love-  _ this one thing that made me  _ happy-  _ and they couldn’t do anything but remind me that it was useless and worthless, and guess what? That means I was  _ useless and worthless! _ ”

That… perhaps went a bit deeper than Hongjoong intended, and he saw the way Seonghwa’s brows twitched downward at the semi-loud shout. 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together, lowering his eyes to the ground. “I’ve spent every year at college trying to explain to people that I’m  _ good  _ at art and art makes me happy like nothing else has. I don’t want to be stuck in a future that’s secure, but makes me fucking miserable. And no one can understand why I would give up some security… just to be fucking  _ happy. _ ” 

He laughed a bit bitterly. 

“Maybe in your world, the goal is to stay alive. In my world… well, there’s two goals, depending on what kind of person you are. You either want to be rich or happy. Rarely do you get both.” Hongjoong’s grip tightened on the book. “I chose happy. So did the rest of my friends.” He glanced up at Seonghwa who was still staring at him, almost in concern. “So, that’s why I chose to study something useless.” 

Hongjoong turned, not really wanting to listen to anymore questions about that other world. He wasn't hysterical anymore, but he still was tentatively holding the fact that he may never go back there. 

“It’s a good portrait.” 

Hongjoong froze, turning back around quickly with wide eyes. 

Seonghwa’s face was neither kind nor gentle. Like a professor critiquing Hongjoong’s work, but he wasn’t tearing it apart. 

“Art has no place here,” Seonghwa said darkly. “So I don’t know much about it...but it at least looks like him.” 

That was probably the most harsh thing one of his friends (or someone who looked like his friend) had ever said about any of his drawings. 

But Hongjoong’s chest felt like it was about to explode as he stared in disbelief. 

Was that actually a compliment? From this Seonghwa, it almost felt like a glowering fucking recommendation. 

He stared blankly for far too long before choking. “Th-Thanks,” he managed, probably looking like he was having a stroke. 

Seonghwa didn’t respond, simply walking out of the other door, into the hall. “Just don’t waste all your time doing it,” He warned sharply, voice back to commanding and stern. “I don’t care about your passions- don’t become a burden.” 

Hongjoong didn’t even care about the harsh words, he simply nodded. “I won’t,” He assured him weakly, staring down at the book in his hands. 

Holy fucking shit. 

He didn’t think Seonghwa was softening up to him by any means. But this, the hug… maybe he was at least learning how to communicate with Hongjoong. Because Hongjoong wasn't one to sit and wait for orders and barks and commands. This wasn’t his world, that wasn’t how he communicated. 

Maybe Seonghwa was learning to communicate. 

Not empathy by any means… but communication. 

Which was a good start, he supposed. No matter how stilted it came across. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> One of my fics, Instinct, has reached 1000+ kudos, and I would love to give each and every one of you a hug!!!   
> Thank you so much to everyone who kudoses, comments, and just takes the time to read! You guys are honestly amazing!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I’m hoping the have the next chapter up on time as well!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for everything! Have an amazing day, lovelies~ 
> 
> -SS


	6. Our Lives Are Your Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again!!  
> I had a whole lot of fun with this one!!! I hope you guys don’t hate me by the end of it!  
> Thank you so much for everyone who commented, kudosed, and read before! You guys are awesome!  
> Please let me know what you think, and have an amazing day, lovelies~  
> -SS  
> TW: forceful, unwanted kissing (not between main characters); homophobic statements

Hongjoong was used to weeks with little sleep. He was accustomed to the pounding in his head that only got worse with each glare Seonghwa would send his way when he passed by his study in the morning and found Hongjoong still there. 

He was used to it, especially following those years of sleep bringing only nightmares and each time he awoke, feeling like he was being strangled by darkness. 

Now, though, he awoke early to light shining in his eyes. 

He awoke to the sound of people moving around through thin walls as he dragged himself upward, body heavy and tired. 

He awoke to the sound of yelling and loud kitchen sounds. 

Hongjoong awoke to a house more alive than anything he had seen. 

He opened the door to the bedroom, glancing down the hall and seeing Wooyoung chasing San around the living room with the closest thing to anger he had yet to see. 

“Give them back!” 

“I need them for tonight!”

“Those are  _ my  _ jeans!”

“My ass looks better in them!”

“I’m about to remove your ass!” 

Out of nowhere, Yunho’s body slammed into Wooyoung’s, pinning the boy beneath him on the couch. 

“Get off!” Wooyoung snapped, glaring at San who danced triumphantly. “Seonghwa!” he yelled like a child calling for a parent. 

“San,” a sharp, scolding voice came from the kitchen. “Give them back.” 

“I need them!” 

“Then ask for them.” 

“He’ll never let me use them!”

“Not now that you’ve stolen them!” Wooyoung yelled, muffled beneath Yunho’s large body, the boy red in the face with laughter. 

“You-” 

“San,” Yeosang’s tired voice said quietly. “I will let you wear my black skinny jeans, if you just stop making him yell.” 

San practically threw the jeans at Wooyoung’s exposed face. “Deal!” he yelled, racing to the hall- 

San jerked to a stop at the sight of Hongjoong in the doorway, the joyous smile sliding off of his face like oil off of water. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Hongjoong didn’t glare, but he was sure he didn’t look welcoming. 

“‘Scuse me,” San said, looking away quickly and slipping by Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong pointedly tried to ignore the fact that these were his team’s faces… 

He pointedly did not think about what they might look like if they had been given this life. And definitely did not think about watching their faces fall when they saw him. 

When Hongjoong lifted his eyes, the rest of the room was staring at him, including Seonghwa who was drying his hands off in the kitchen doorway. 

Hongjoong’s eyes found his first. 

No part of Hongjoong could be fooled into forgetting what he had told Seonghwa last night. For what reason did he tell him? 

That beat the hell out of Hongjoong. But he  _ had _ told him. Too many things. Things that no one was supposed to ever know, and those that did know were never supposed to speak of it. 

Hongjoong could not afford to be weak. He could not afford pity. 

And Seonghwa’s eyes that looked at him held enough pity to drown out Hongjoong’s glares. 

“There’s cereal for breakfast,” Seonghwa said quietly. “If you want some.” 

Hongjoong did not feel like eating, even if he was hungry. 

“I’m thinking of going back to the library,” Hongjoong said, instead. 

“It’s Saturday,” Yunho said as Wooyoung managed to wiggle out from under him. “It doesn’t open until this afternoon.” 

Hongjoong sighed harshly, running a hand through his hair. He was going to go stir crazy. 

“I totally forgot about him,” Wooyoung said under his breath, staring at Hongjoong. 

“How the hell did you forget?” Yeosang demanded, annoyed but still quiet. 

“I was thinking about the party!” Wooyoung defended quickly. His expression dropped. “Wait, if he’s here- who the hell is gonna watch him?” 

“I am.” 

Wooyoung turned to Seonghwa so quickly, Hongjoong feared for his neck as wide eyes stared at Seonghwa. “ _ What _ ?” Wooyoung screeched. “Hyung- you can’t say behind! It’s Seungcheol’s pre-finals party! You can’t miss it!” 

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa said firmly, shaking his head. “I knew I was gonna miss. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have much fun anyway-” 

“Bullshit!” Mingi joined, staring pleadingly at Seonghwa. “You have to come!”

“Are one of you going to stay behind?” Seonghwa asked, cocking an eyebrow. “And don’t answer that because I wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to.” 

“You deserve a break, too, hyung,” Yeosang said quietly, looking disappointed. “And I can’t keep all of them from being stupid by myself.” 

“Yeah!” Wooyoung said quickly. “If you don’t come, I’ll jump off the roof into the pool!”

“That would be the tamest thing you’ve done at Seungcheol’s parties,” Seonghwa muttered. 

“Then I’ll get drunk and start making out with strangers!” Wooyoung threatened. “When San asks me if I want to try and fuck with Jihoon’s music equipment, I’ll say yes!” 

Yunho snorted. “That’s suicidal.” 

“I will!” Wooyoung assured him, glaring with begging eyes. “Hyung, come on-” 

“You deserve it,” Mingi pressed,hanging up on him. “It’s been a fucked up week for everyone. Finals are coming up- just give yourself a night.” 

“I can’t,” Seonghwa stressed, gesturing at Hongjoong. “Things are too crazy right now, I can’t let-” 

Wooyoung was suddenly whipping around, determined, hard eyes glaring at Hongjoong almost in accusation. 

It was nowhere near as cold as his own Wooyoung’s eyes, but Hongjoong still found himself cocking an eyebrow up at the angry expression. 

“You!” Wooyoung snapped. “Can you sit in a loud place with a bunch of drunk people without killing someone or fucking things up? We’ll give you alcohol and snacks if you can sit down and be good for a few hours.” 

Hongjoong’s expression darkened dangerously, and Seonghwa smacked Wooyoung across the back of his head. “Enough,” He barked harshly, glaring. “Wooyoung, that’s completely ridiculous. It’s unsafe for everyone involved- including Hongjoong.” 

“It’s not fair!” Wooyoung snapped, holding his head in pain. “You shouldn’t have to miss out on a fucking break just because you’re worried he’s gonna fuck something up.” 

“That’s the end of the discussion,” Seonghwa said firmly, voice sharp. “You guys have fun. I have studying to do-” 

“Say yes,” Wooyoung demanded of Hongjoong, glaring once more, undeterred by Hongjoong’s sour expression. “Things have been fucked up since you got here, you can at least let Seonghwa have one night-” 

“ _ Wooyoung! _ ” 

If Hongjoong was shocked by the angry yell, Wooyoung looked like Seonghwa had just struck him across the face, turning back with shocked eyes. 

Seonghwa’s expression was stormy, lips pressed together in a thin line as he glared. “Enough,” He said, sounding like he was barely holding back something. “Stop blaming Hongjoong- he’s not holding me prisoner. But it’s irresponsible to do something like that. And it’s even more irresponsible to leave him alone, if only for the fact he doesn’t understand how this place works.” 

Wooyoung’s glare turned bitter as he lowered his eyes, like a scolded child just moments from a tantrum. 

“What are you even talking about?” Hongjoong finally demanded when the silence ran too long with everyone staring at their shoes. 

“Seungcheol’s frat always has a party the weekend before finals,” Yeosang said firmly but quiet, not quite looking at Hongjoong in the eyes. “It’s, like, the best party all year. Even I have fun there-” 

Hongjoong assumed these parties were not something Yeosang usually had fun at. 

“I don’t know how you guys can think of partying with everything going on,” Jongho said quietly where he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Wooyoung pointed a warning finger at him. “This shit is way worse than finals, so shut up. We need a fucking break. And you’re going, too- You have no excuse.” 

“Wooyoung-” 

Seonghwa’s call was ignored as Wooyoung turned to Hongjoong- glare fading into a pleading expression. 

Hongjoong’s stomach twisted at the sight- but he couldn’t tell exactly why. 

“Come on,” he begged, choosing beseeching over anger. “Please. I know you’re all fucked up and shit-” 

Hongjoong glared. 

“-but cooperate on this,” he pleaded, hands clasped. “Agree to come to the party and just sit there. Drink some stuff, eat some food- you can come back with someone after a couple of hours.” 

“Wooyoung, stop it,” Seonghwa warned, looking close to physically dragging the other out of the room. 

Hongjoong stared at Wooyoung’s usually sharp expression softened in desperation. 

Hongjoong didn’t necessarily know why this was so important to him. Something about it being a break for them, a chance to relax and have fun… 

Hongjoong glanced at Seonghwa who was glaring in warning at Wooyoung. 

Maybe it was only because this Seonghwa wore stress and burdens so much worse than his own… but Hongjoong could see where it was affecting him. The strain around his eyes, the terseness in his lips, the tension in his shoulders… 

They were familiar signs, but never were they worn so openly. 

“Please,” Wooyoung said when Hongjoong didn’t immediately answer. “Maybe you’ll actually have fun. Seonghwa’s going to be stuck here if you don’t-” 

Seonghwa strode forward, grabbing Wooyoung by hand and pulling him to his feet. “Wooyoung, I said enough-” 

“Whatever.” 

Everyone in the room seemed to simultaneously choke at Hongjoong’s flippant sigh. 

Wooyoung’s eyes widened hopefully, even as Seonghwa’s narrowed in a glare. “I’m not going along just because he guilt tripped you-” 

Hongjoong scoffed genuinely, arms crossed firmly. “Do you honestly think I feel guilt about  _ anything _ ?” he demanded darkly. 

“Yes,” came Seonghwa’s immediate replied, sharp and firm. 

Hongjoong’s chest tightened reflexively in response as he glared. “Well, I don’t,” He informed Seonghwa pointedly. “And no amount of begging or pleading is going to guilt me into complying with anything.” 

Wooyoung was already grinning broadly, looking to Yeosang to begin some sort of conversation. 

“Then why are you going?” Seonghwa asked, as if he might get Hongjoong to admit some sort of soft hearted answer. 

Hongjoong gestured around sharply. “Does it look as if any progress is being made?” he demanded. “The book is proving useless, any other book will likely be just as useless on such a foreign topic- and if it will make all of you stop your constant  _ whining,  _ I will sit in a corner and  _ play nice, _ ” he sneered, “for a few hours that I would spend in a room uselessly anyway.” 

Really, there was no further action they could take. As of now, they were really just playing a waiting game with Hongjoong trying to appear like he was doing something that might help, but he knew it was useless. 

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed. 

He knew too much about Hongjoong. 

But Seonghwa had always known too much about Hongjoong, even when he hadn’t told him anything. 

“You don’t have to,” Seonghwa said, voice turning gentle and reassuring. 

“As if you could ever force me to do something,” he sneered. 

Seonghwa didn’t react to the anger. Almost like a parent ignoring their child’s fit throwing. It made Hongjoong’s fists clench defensively. 

The goal was to always get a reaction. If you yelled, they needed to yell back. If you fought, they needed to fight back. 

When no reaction was given, you weren’t effective. 

You were useless. 

“It’s not until tonight,” Seonghwa said quietly after a moment, like he was finally giving in. “If you still want to go to the library, there would be time before the party.” 

Hongjoong suddenly didn’t feel like being out in public with all these people in their perfect world. He turned away. “Nevermind,” He muttered. “I wouldn’t find anything useful anyway.” 

He strode back to the room, slamming the door closed and sitting on the bed heavily, staring at his hands. 

This is why weakness could never be shown. Because the moment someone knew you were weak, that was the moment your strength became nothing but a joke to them. 

Hongjoong had divulge information to Seonghwa that no one should ever know. He had admitted to his greatest weakness… and now, Seonghwa merely stared at him as if he knew that all his anger was a farce. A distraction tactic to the  _ bleeding heart beneath.  _

Hongjoong wanted to break something. 

But he merely stared around the room, too jittery to sit still- 

His eyes fell on the phone that he had yet to pick up from the floor. So much for using it for emergency communication. His fists tightened at the memory of the things on it. 

All those photos… all those memories with Hongjoong’s face but that were not him. That would never be him. 

He picked the phone up. Because if there was one thing Hongjoong was good at, it was getting into places he shouldn’t. Even when he knew he shouldn’t. 

The phone unlocked under his touch and he stared at the last photo that still stood there on the screen. 

Him and Seonghwa kissing stared back at him. 

It felt wrong to look at. Despite the fact that Hongjoong understood that they were two separate entities- these people were not him and Seonghwa. But still, he quickly swiped on, feeling like a voyeur. 

The next item was not a photo, but a video that began to automatically play. 

It began in this very room- a shaky hand approaching the bed that Hongjoong’s body was thrown across, his back shaking and face buried in the mattress. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa’s voice came from the phone, shaking with laughter. “Okay, tell me again what happened.” 

Hongjoong practically screamed into the blankets, lifting his head enough to see red eyes and exaggerated anguish on his face. “My fucking- My painting- I-I spilled- I spilled my fucking coffee-” 

He slammed his head hack into the cushion as Seonghwa burst into laughter, the camera flying to stare at the desk with a sopping wet art project with a dark brown stain across it. 

But Hongjoong’s chest tightened horribly at the sound. 

He wasn’t sure… if he had ever heard Seonghwa laugh before. A chuckle, perhaps, but never the full-blown laughter that shook the camera as Hongjoong yelled that it wasn’t funny. 

Seonghwa walked to Hongjoong, his hand appearing as he stroked Hongjoong’s hair comfortingly. “I know,” He assured him, choking on his laughter. “I know, I’m sorry, baby- You can start over, it’s not too late…” 

“I hate myself!” Hongjoong yelled, flopping onto his back with a cry of despair. 

The video stopped with Seonghwa’s snorting laughter. 

Hongjoong stared at the black screen for far too long. 

Their relationships were completely different. This Hongjoong was bright and dramatic, and this Seonghwa was empathetic and gentle… 

Hongjoong was dark. He was twisted and too goal-oriented. Seonghwa was reliable and steadfast and everything Hongjoong needed to combat his own shortcomings. 

This Seonghwa was used to giving comfort to his Hongjoong. To being playful with him, despite his clear status as someone responsible… 

Perhaps, in a way…. They complimented each other. Filled in the gaps in each other. 

Like him and his Seonghwa. But different. 

Everything was different, wasn’t it? 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong was sitting on the couch in the living area, alone. 

He had seen Yunho leading a gagged man towards the basement, and he was pointedly trying not to think about it. 

“What- are you going to vomit again?” Wooyoung’s cold voice came through- sarcastic and high. 

Hongjoong glanced up from his notebook that he had only written one word in. 

_ Sleep??? _

He set his pen down slowly, his stomach unsettled. “What do you do with the people you interrogate?” he asked quietly. 

Wooyoung cocked an eyebrow where he leaned against the doorframe. “Why do you want to know?” he challenged. 

Hongjoong shrugged. “Do you kill them?” he questioned, afraid of the answer. 

Wooyoung snorted darkly. “Dead men don’t talk.” 

He swallowed thickly. “What sort of information are you getting from them? They’re from Capital, right? I read it in the journal.” Wooyoung’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Hongjoong went on quickly. “What do you ask them? Don’t you already control Capital?”

Wooyoung glared for a moment, sharp eyes dragging across Hongjoong’s skin. As if sizing up why he wanted to know and what he might do with the information. 

“How do you think we keep that control?” he asked darkly, pushing off the doorframe. “You think Capital is laying still for us? That they’re not trying to throw us off their throats?” 

Honestly, Hongjoong had seen no evidence that this group consisted of anything more than the eight people here, and that alone was enough to make his head spin- that eight people could control what sounded like an entire city. 

“Capital is what happens when those who are rich enough to lock themselves away from the world leave the rest of us to burn in a world they destroyed.” 

“How did they destroy it?” Hongjoong asked suddenly, leaning forward. “Why did they do it?”

This was the most information he had been given without confrontation. 

Hongjoong would take what he could get. Anything for a clue of what the hell was found in. 

A hell that he might… be in for a while. 

“Why does anyone do anything?” Wooyoung scoffed. “Money, power- Whatever else they were offered.” He shrugged. “No one’s really exactly sure how things got so bad. It happened too long ago for people to really remember. And we don’t exactly care. Capital fucked up the world, and then hid in a little utopia they had built to hold those who were rich enough to afford its price.” 

“If they were so powerful, how did you gain control over them?” Hongjoong demanded. “There’s only those of you here, aren’t there?” 

Wooyoung nodded, grinning wickedly. “We became worse than Capital. The only way to kill a monster is to become a worse monster, isn’t it? Hongjoong helped us become that.”

“He turned you… into monsters,” Hongjoong whispered, stomach twisting.” 

That sounded decidedly less… “good guy.” 

Good guys who had done bad things. But bad guys… who had done worse things. 

“Technically, he only planted the idea,” Wooyoung said, eyes narrowing. “He asked us if we wanted to fight. We said yes. He said we might do some pretty horrific things to the people in Capital…. And we were only too happy to fuck up their lives.” 

It really was a resistance, wasn’t it? 

“You know the only thing rich people want more than money?” Wooyoung questioned. “To  _ live, _ ” he spat. “They’re all cowards- they didn’t get there by  _ fighting _ . They paid off the right people and gained a spot in safety.  _ We  _ grew up in the slums and dirt, and we learned to fight back.  _ Hongjoong  _ taught us to fight back.” 

Wooyoung glared, as if reminding Hongjoong that he was not that person. 

And Hongjoong was too well aware of that. 

And he was beginning to understand… that perhaps this Hongjoong- though cruel and bitter and hate-filled- was more than a friend. 

They spoke of him like he was their savior. Someone who grabbed them from the brink of giving up and gave them something to believe in… Gave them something to fight for… 

That… couldn't be bad. 

“Capital is full of cowards,” Wooyoung spat. “All it took was us infiltrating and holding the right person hostage. All it took was killing a handful, and the rest of them fell in line- just for a chance to live. As if they had ever given anyone else that chance,” he scoffed. 

It was such a cruel and twisted statement… but from the literature-teacher-making-you-analyze-motivation perspective… he could understand how this was probably a very smart and called for action. In fact, it was pretty justified. Especially for a lawless world like this. 

“We likely could have wiped the entirety of Capital out by now,” Wooyoung assured him darkly. “But they do have uses. They keep a flow of products- food and things. They have contact with people outside of this immediate area.” 

“Why not take over and gain that contact and everything?” Hongjong asked, staring at Wooyoung with such ignorance. 

“That wasn’t what our goal was,” Wooyoung said firmly, shaking his head. “Destroying Capital wasn’t what we wanted. Capital has power. If we destroyed that, its power died with it. We let them keep some power, but they use it for what we want, when we say to. Or suddenly, another handful of people go missing.” 

“What do you use it for?” he rasped. Hongjoong wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. 

“Whatever we need it for.” Wooyoung shrugged. “Recently, it’s been to put out the bad fires. We can’t heal the world, but we use Capital’s control to try and slow down the death of everything. There’s not much we can do, but we like to see Capital squirm.” 

He grinned, sharp as a knife against his skin. He almost looked manic… but like everyone else he had met here… his eyes were too coherent. Too clear with understanding. 

This wasn’t anger and rage that blinded. It sharpened them. Focused them on a single target that they believed with everything they held deserved to be destroyed and suffer for what it had done. 

“If nothing else,” Wooyoung said coldly. “Death is too good for Capital. We want to watch them shake in fear, like they watched us burn before we started our own fires there.” 

It was so angry and bitter. 

It was justified, if everything was true. 

“Is that what the people you interrogate are for?” Hongjoong asked hoarsely. “To send that message?” 

Wooyoung chuckled darkly. “No, if we want a message sent, we go to Capital ourselves. But, like I said- you think Capital is taking all of this lying down? They track us. They try and fight us. They snatch one or two of us away and try to act like they have the upper hand.” 

He jerked his head towards the direction of the basement. 

“Those people are Capital agents. Ones who have gotten too close. Ones we heard names of being dropped. Sometimes, Capital finds a way to track our movements. We snatch one of their agents and figure out exactly how much they know.” 

He shrugged, as if that was nothing. 

Hongjoong still felt a little queasy. He stared at this Wooyoung… so different from his own… So much hatred in his eyes- 

He had been in that Black Room. He had been taken. 

Hongjoong’s fists curled into tight fists. He wanted to ask. But that hadn’t really gone over well with Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong had brought up enough bad memories. “Is Yeosang still okay?” he asked quietly. 

Wooyoung’s expression darkened in another way- not concern, but as if bracing himself. “He’ll live,” he assured him. “He’ll be out of commission for a while because of how much blood he lost. He’s not happy about that, since we’re already down a man-” 

A man, being Hongjoong. 

“-but Seonghwa’s not taking chances. He’s staying in that bed for the next few days. Maybe tomorrow, Seonghwa will let him start catching up on records or something.” He shrugged. 

Hongjoong nodded, relieved. 

“We aren’t weak,” Wooyoung said sharply- but not dangerous. “Something like that would never take one of us out.” As if he was trying to convince Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong huffed. “I know,” He admitted. “But it’s hard. Something like that… That’s not normal in my world. And to happen to someone like Yeosang of all people-” 

“Why?” Wooyoung demanded, eyebrow cocked. “What’s he like in your world? Just as prone to vomiting as you? Please tell me faints at the sight of blood.” 

The words were cruel and sarcastic. 

But part of them almost sounded… playful. Like cruel teasing. 

“We don’t see enough blood in our world for me to know that,” Hongjoong answered without getting angry. “But he’s quiet… sensitive. He’s cute, always asking for you to buy him food- like that little kid you just want to protect. He’s antisocial, so he stays home a lot, and when he goes out, he needs someone to go with him most of the time. But if you can get him to open up, he’s got a vicious mouth on him.” 

Hongjoong never wanted to be on the receiving end of Yeosang’s teasing, ever. 

Wooyoung’s expression… didn’t twist in disgust. Nor did his mouth laugh sarcastically with a cruel curse of “pathetic.” 

He actually seemed thoughtful, his eyes still dark. “Interesting… I guess.” At Hongjoong’s cocked eyebrow, he hummed. “Our Yeosang is… well, he’s certainly got more control than that, but he’s the most emotional out of all of us.” 

Hongjoong blinked. “That statue? Does he even have emotions?” 

Wooyoung stared expectantly. “Did you miss the part where he almost slit your throat in this very room?” 

Hongjong winced. Point taken. 

“You do understand we aren’t robots, right?” Wooyoung challenged, his tone questioning Hongjoong’s intelligence. “We have emotions, but those are the first things getting exploited, so we learned to control them.” 

“You do know that rage and anger issues are emotions, right?” Hongjoong asked, gesturing to his bruised and scabbing thoat. 

“Anger can’t be used against you,” Wooyoung said firmly. “Hatred isn’t something they can exploit. Happiness, affection, kindness- those can be taken away from you. They can be used against you.” 

And that was why they could never be family. 

Hongjoong knew these people felt more than they claimed to. He saw it in their eyes every time they glared at him for being the wrong Hongjoong. That fear, anxiety… 

He saw it in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

Maybe Seonghwa didn’t love this Hongjoong like his did… but Hongjoong was under no illusion that there wasn’t something deeper than basic friendship there. He didn’t think basic friendship explained any of these people’s relationships with each other. 

“What are…” Hongjoong really needed to stop asking questions that might get him beat up. “What are… Seonghwa and Hongjoong like? In this universe?” 

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What’re yours like?” he said, just to be difficult. “You mentioned before that you’re…” He gestured vaguely. “Together.” 

Hongjoong nodded slowly, not particularly liking the reminder that his Seonghwa was gone. 

Wooyoung snorted, grinning sharply, teeth like knives. “That’s hilarious,” he said, dark eyes slashing over Hongjoong. “God, it pisses me off, but the thought of the two of them together is fucking funny.” 

“What are they like?” Hongjoong asked again. “Why is it so funny?” 

Wooyoung laughed, sharp and dangerous- even their positive emotions were tainted. “You’re missing about a decade’s worth of inside jokes… but basically, Hongjoong and Seonghwa are… it’s like whatever god that decided to fuck off also decided he’d make one person have two bodies, you get me?” 

“Sort of… Like soulmates?”

Wooyoung’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Way too romantic,” he snorted. “No, like… everyone on this team trusts each other with our lives. Hongjoong and Seonghwa are trust and reliance on steroids. They always have been. They’re the ones who… sort of helped put each other back together when things got rough.” 

Hongjoong bit his tongue, but it came out anyway. 

“Rough meaning… that Black Room?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened at the mention- 

“Seonghwa told me a little about it,” he said quickly. “Like… that it’s a fucked up place to be. That they don’t hurt you, but that it’s… it’s bad.” 

Wooyoung’s playful demeanor was gone, leaving only something dark and a little… hollow. His jaw twitched. 

“I was in that place for less than an hour,” he said, voice drawing down and down and down… “And it was months before I could sleep. Before I stopped jumping when people walked by… I don’t remember what the hell happened… but to this day, I don’t know how Seonghwa survived a day and Hongjoong survived a week.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach clenched. 

He never liked hearing about those sorts of things in history class. 

“That room… messed them both up. In different ways, but it nearly cost us two of the people we relied on completely.” Wooyoung’s jaw clenched, speaking through his teeth. “It was the first time… that we were afraid we were going to lose one of them. That they weren’t going to come back.” 

And maybe Hongjoong didn’t know everything about these people… but he at least understood the significance of that fear. 

How dark that meant things had gotten. 

“All of us were too afraid,” Wooyoung muttered. “We didn't know what the hell to do- our leader was losing his mind. Seonghwa was the one who was brave enough to take Hongjoong on. And when Seonghwa was taken there… Hongjoong was the one who lead the charge to get him back. Even though he was terrified of that room. Hongjoong was the only one who could get Seonghwa to respond.” 

Hongjoong felt his stomach twist. “Who helped you? Once you were back?” 

“Everyone,” Wooyoung assured him. “By the time I was taken, we knew what this place was. Everyone else was able to copy what they had seen Hongjoong and Seonghwa do. But in the beginning… they were the only two people who could get through to each other. So they’re different than the rest of us. They had more reason to follow and trust in ways the rest of us never could.” 

Seonghwa had said Hongjoong had given them everything- that these people owed him their lives and more. 

And yet, they said that Seonghwa was the one who was special. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Hongjoong rasped, feeling oddly chilled. “Why are you… almost being nice to me?” 

It wasn’t like he was suspecting ulterior motives, but… With everything being so crazy, Hongjoong needed to know where he was standing with people. 

And this was probably the first time any of them hadn’t threatened or attacked him during a conversation. 

Wooyoung stared at him- a little dull, a little dark, and a little analyzing. 

“Well, I’m telling you… because I want to make sure you understand just who you replaced.” 

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Hongjoong burst in frustration. 

“I’m not blaming you,” Wooyoung said sharply. “As annoying as you are- For probably the first time, I’m not blaming you.”

Hongjoong blinked, but kept his guard up. 

“But… this wasn’t just a leader you took the place of.” 

“I was never under the illusion of him being just your leader,” Hongjoong assured him. “I knew he was someone special to you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Wooyoung huffed roughly, “you can understand why we’re not too fond of you.” 

“I can.” Hongjoong had just wanted them to understand why it wasn’t fair that they were so violent against him. 

Wooyoung ran a rough hand through his hair. “And I’m not being nice,” he clarified. “I’m still pissed that you’re here when we needed Hongjoong so badly… but, I’m also realizing that it’s not doing us any good to be shoving you around.” 

It took them that long to figure that out. 

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened. “You aren’t Hongjoong.” 

He laughed sharply. “I’m well aware of that, Wooyoung.” 

“No, that’s what I’m trying to come to terms with,” Wooyoung stressed, hands shoved deep in his pockets, glaring with frustration. “You aren’t Hongjoong. But that… doesn’t necessarily make you useless. You found out that stuff with the book…” He shrugged. “And, hell, you haven’t gone insane, even though you are pretty pathetic-” 

Hongjoong didn’t ruffle at the harsh words. 

Once more… it almost came across as teasing. Almost too sharp, but just barely passing below the bar of cruel. 

“So basically,” Wooyoung said firmly. “I don’t want you here. I want your ass gone and my leader back. But… maybe wanting you dead isn’t going to help the situation at all. We’re good at putting aside personal feelings to get something done… usually.” He cracked a grin that looked like a shark bearing its teeth, but it was a grin nonetheless. 

And it was probably the worst olive branch Hongjoong had ever been handed- if it even was an olive branch. 

But it was one person (aside from Seonghwa) who wasn’t actively trying to make his life hell, so Hongjoong would take what he could fucking get. 

“You guys… are actually pretty good people, aren’t you?” Hongjoong said quietly. 

Wooyoung’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Did you miss the whole history I just explained to you?” 

“But you did it all for each other, didn’t you?” Hongjoong asked. “Everything you’ve done- it was for each other.” 

“Do you understand how many horrible things we’ve done?” Wooyoung challenged angrily. 

“You did it for family,” Hongjoong said firmly. “It doesn’t make it good- but you weren’t doing it just to make people suffer. You did it for justice.” 

“What did I say about calling us family?” Wooyoung snapped. “That’s not what we are.” 

“It’s family,” Hongjoong said quietly. “Even if you don’t want to call it that, that’s what you are.” 

Wooyoung glared, silent and angry again. 

“Call it whatever you want,” Hongjoong said, waving a hand. “Choose another word, but… you did everything you’ve done for family. And that’s… better.” 

For several moments, the two of them simply stared at each other, as if Wooyoung was waiting for some sort of opening to come. 

“What would you do for yours?” Wooyoung asked, testing and challenging. “For your family?” 

Oh, that was a loaded question. 

Hongjoong had done a lot for them- skipping class, speaking to the dean about letting them stay in the frat, comforting and confronting… 

“There’s no opportunity in my world for me to do something like what you’ve done,” Hongjoong said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But...if it came down to it? Probably the exact things you’ve done.” 

Maybe it was exaggerated or false… but Hongjoong knew that he loved those people he left behind. 

And he knew that… given these circumstances? Hongjoong would give anything to ensure they made it through another day. 

Fight, bleed, and kill for them. 

“What would you do for your Seonghwa?” Wooyoung challenged again, eyes sharpening, as if he was some suspicious parent making sure he was good enough for their kid. 

Hongjoong actually laughed, his heart feeling like it had promptly been ripped in half. 

God, he missed him so fucking much. He could stop himself from thinking about it, but it just kept slamming into his chest. 

What if he stayed here? What if there was no way back? What if it was years? 

“That much, huh?”

He started, not even having realized he hadn’t answered Wooyoung who was staring at him curiously. 

“You know the weirdest thing about you?” he asked, crossing his arms casually. “Seeing Hongjoong’s face go through all these different emotions- Our leader isn’t nearly so easy to read. So you never know what exactly is a straight answer.” 

He leaned down slightly, to be level with Hongjoong on the couch, Hongjong shifting backwards slightly. 

“But you…” Wooyoung hummed curiously. “You’d do anything for your Seonghwa, wouldn't you? It’s written all over your face.” 

It felt like a punch to his gut and triumph at the same time- finally having someone understand it, but the painful reminder. 

Wooyoung hummed again as he straightened, staring at Hongjoong down his nose. “Huh… maybe the two of you aren’t actually that different…” 

“Who?” Hongjoong demanded, feeling unsteady. “Me and your Hongjoong?” 

Wooyoung hummed once more, turning on his heel with a curious expression as he walked out of the room. 

Hongjoong resisted the urge to yell for him to get the fuck back here and explain what the fuck that meant- 

“Wooyoung!” he yelled, getting to his feet, unsteady. 

Wooyoung paused before turning slowly, a single eyebrow raised apathetically. 

Did that mean their Hongjoong would do anything for this Seonghwa?

It certainly seemed so. Those logs he had read… 

Everything, when piled up on top of each other, pointed to the fact that this Hongjoong and Seonghwa were not in love. 

But they were probably something even deeper than that to each other. Something that transcended petty love. Something that they didn’t even have a word for. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Wooyoung asked coldly, though his lips quirked in dark amusement. 

Hongjong swallowed. “Your Hongjoong… had he and Seonghwa-” 

“ _ Wooyoung! _ ”

Both of them turned sharply at the desperate yell, San slamming to a stop, catching himself on the doorframe with his mask up and his knife drawn. 

“Perimeter!” he snapped. “A fucking lot of them! Now!” 

Hongjoong watched the darkness flood Wooyoung’s eyes as he shoved his mask up. 

Wooyoung threw an obsidian glare at Hongjoong, like another person washing over Wooyoung from the almost-kindness of before. 

“Go to the infirmary!” he snapped, already running over to San. “Yeosang’s down there- stay with him!” 

“What the hell is he going to do?” San demanded, clearly questioning Wooyoung’s sanity. 

Wooyoung’s dark eyes bored into Hongjoong’s like a knife of their own. “Whatever it takes,” he said lowly- almost a threat. 

More like a bargain. 

Hongjoong felt like he was standing outside- his lungs constricting fearfully. 

“Let’s go!” Jongho’s voice yelled, a black blur racing past them. 

“Go to Yeosang,” Woyoung ordered, unable to waste anymore time, running after San who was saying something about the men never reaching the base anyway. 

Hongjoong was suddenly standing alone in the living area, the distant sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the silent base. 

Those men wouldn’t get to the base, San had said. 

Then why would Wooyoung want him to go watch Yeosang? Was it fear? Something to ensure that Hongjoong didn’t go wandering outside again? 

But... the reason didn’t matter. Hongjoong jerked himself out of his shock and walked quickly through the room of the house, finding that door he had been shown before. 

Quickly, he opened it, walking down the stairs swiftly, not sure why, but something feeling apprehensive in his chest. 

He suddenly knew so much more about these people, it was making his head spin. So much more about them made sense, so many more of their actions had motive and reasoning- 

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, and found Yeosang standing by a bed, a hand clutched painfully tight over bandages on his waist, expression pinched in obvious pain- 

“What the hell are you doing?” Hongjoong cried, rushing forward and grabbing him anywhere that wasn’t bandaged. 

Yeosang didn’t even fight him as Hongjoong pushed him back to the bed, laying him back against the pillow that Yeosng collapsed back onto, breathing heavily with his skin covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. 

“What are you doing- trying to walk around like that?” he demanded angrily. 

Yeosang managed to glare at Hongjoong through the pain, but he remained silent for a long moment where he tried to regain his breath. 

“What- What the hell are you doing down here?” he demanded through gritted teeth. 

Hongjoong pressed his lips together in disapproval. “Wooyoung told me to come down here. To watch you.” 

Yeosang glared harder, but it fell back into pain as his chest heaved around the bandages there. 

It was so… so surreal to look at this person and keep reminding himself that it wasn’t his Yeosang. 

But he was someone’s Yeosang. 

He glanced around, finding a knife sitting beside the bed- probably Yeosang’s. He picked it up slowly. 

He saw Yeosang tense, his breathing halting as he eyed the knife. 

Hongjoong felt his chest twist at the thought. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “But… Wooyoung told me to watch you.” 

“You think you can use a knife?” Yeosang demanded through his teeth. 

“If it comes down to it, I’ll figure it out.” 

A symbol of trust had been extended from Wooyoung. 

Like Seonghwa assigning him to find answers- Wooyoung was telling him to take care of Yeosang, if something should happen. 

God forbid Hongjoong ever let any of them down. 

They may not be his family, but if Hongjoong was going to steal their leader’s spot, he was going to have to at least take care of the people he was charged with. It was the least he could do. 

Yeosang huffed bitterly, falling back on the pillow with his eyes shut tight. “Right. Then I guess we’re screwed.” 

Hongjoong said nothing, staring at the knife. 

It wasn’t his family. But he’d want another version of himself to take care of his family, while he was gone. 

It would be easy enough to try and protect them like they were his. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong stood in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at the person across from him as if they were holding a knife to his throat. 

Yeosang’s lips thinned as he pushed the little blue square more insistently. “Just take it,” he said, voice still just a lilting sound of quiet. “I bought it for you.” 

“Ice cream,” Hongjoong repeated, still curling his lips in distaste. 

“Yes, ice cream,” Yeosang huffed. “Just take it.” 

“Why should I?” Hongjoong demanded. 

“Because,” Yeosang sighed, “I bought it. Don’t make me waste money.” 

“Why would you buy it for me?” Hongjoong snapped. “What did you do to it?” 

“I didn’t do anything to it,” Yeosang said, lips pushing out almost in a pout. “I wouldn’t waste ice cream like that.” He shoved it at Hongjoong again. 

Dear God, he looked like a damn puppy. 

“Then why are you doing it?” Hongjoong repeated, making absolutely no move to take it. 

Yeosang continued to stare in disapproval for a moment before he sighed, his expression falling from playful annoyance into something more genuine. 

Hongjoong immediately braced himself. 

“Because,” He said quietly, voice dropped low. “You might think that people can’t hear things, as long as you’re yelling them at 3AM, but the walls in this place are thin.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach disappeared. 

Yeosang reached forward, taking his hand and pressing the cold square into it. “No, I wasn’t eavesdropping, but it’s hard to ignore when you two are having shouting matches in the kitchen. I didn’t hear everything, but I heard enough.” 

“So what is this?” Hongjong snarled, jerking his hand away. “An apology? Pity?” 

Yeosang sighed quietly, taking a moment. “It’s an acknowledgement,” he said quietly. “That… I was maybe wrong. About you.” He sighed again. “Look, you’re not Hongjoong, and you’re an absolute asshole-” 

Where the hell was the nervous person Hongjoong had first seen? What was this sharp tongue coming out? 

“- but you’re not… you’re not what I thought you were.” 

“And what did you think I was?” Hongjoong scoffed, already shoving the ice cream back at Yeosang. 

“A monster, mostly,” Yeosang admitted bluntly. “But… Listen, you’re not an asshole version of Hongjoong. You’re someone who happens to look like Hongjoong, but you’ve got your own experiences… Things I… I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Even an asshole.” 

The ice cream was shoved firmly into Hongjoong’s chest, and he stumbled back a step. 

“If nothing else,” Yeosang said firmly, “consider it thanks for breaking Daejung’s jaw. We’ve been fucking waiting for him to get justice for everything he does.” 

And then...Yeosang was simply gone. 

Hongjoong put the ice cream on the desk, intending to never touch it again. 

He wanted to track Yeosng down and shove it back at him, and tell him that if he ever implied anything like that again, he’d break his hands. 

He stared at the ice cream. 

Was this truly all it took for people in this world to trust? Was it so easy to come by in this world? 

He stared at the ice cream, feeling the same sensation as when he stared at the pictures on the phone. That there was something here- an entire life- that he was staring at, but would never truly understand. 

He didn’t want to understand it. 

He would need to have certain emotions and experiences and feelings in order to understand, and he did not have those. 

He refused to have them. 

There was a slamming knock on his door hours later, the ice cream melted in its packaging, and Hongjoong stood just to stave off the headache of letting the knocking continue. 

“What?” he snapped viciously. 

Wooyoung stared at him impassively. “Let’s go,” he said firmly. “You’re not backing out- you’re coming with us, you promised.” 

Once again… the moment you showed any sort of weakness… all your anger and threats were seen as nothing but a joke. 

“I did not promise,” Hongjoong snapped, using the anger to distract himself. “What are you doing?” 

“Gathering people up,” Wooyoung stressed. “We’re meeting in the living room before we head out.” He glanced at Hongjoong’s clothes. “Are you wearing those?” he asked, wincing. 

Hongjoong glared. 

Wooyoung shrugged. “It’s a good thing you’re not looking to get laid,” He said simply. “Let’s go- living room!” he ordered. 

Hongjoong was still trying to figure out when these people had stopped being afraid of him. 

Had Wooyoung heard, as well? How many of them had? How much had they heard? What exactly had they yelled- Hongjoong couldn’t remember. 

Hongjoong walked out slowly, already regretting his decision to give in to such childish antics. 

A party. 

Those only existed in Capital. And part of Hongjoong felt dirty for agreeing to this. 

Hongjoong entered the living area and barely recognized the people there- his body practically jerking to a stop. 

They all wore different clothing, but it was all… weird. 

Dark pants that clung to their legs, sheer or light shirts that hung off of them- San and Wooyoung both wore dark leather jackets. 

More than one of them had thick black lines around their eyes- their hair- 

“Think we look sexy? Wooyoung chuckled when he saw Hongjong staring. 

“What the  _ hell  _ are you wearing?” He had never seen clothes like that in his life. And it was even worse, seeing them on his team’s faces. 

The clothes were clearly meant to be provocative. Sexy, he supposed, according to Wooyoung. Potentially used for the purpose of getting laid. 

Much, he realized, like the parties at Capital. His lips thinned. 

“Oh, shut up,” San huffed, frowning like Hongjoong was being no fun. “We get like, three chances a year to get dressed up and have fun. Don’t ruin this for us. Our Hongjoong puts the rest of us to shame.” 

Hongjoong did not want to hear about that- and he would cut out the tongue of the person who tried to tell him. 

Yeosang entered- in the same ripped up light jeans and shirt he had been wearing, but his hair was mussed and his lips were definitely pinker than they had been. He wore thick soled boots that almost looked like Hongjoong’s. 

Wooyoung, however, booed as he entered. “I told you to wear the fishnets!” he scolded. 

Yeosang shook his head. “It’s not a fishnets party. You remember what happened last time.” 

“Yeah, you looked hot.” 

“And I was beating people off the whole party,” Yeosang reminded him firmly. “I’m not in the mood to need a bodyguard tonight.” 

“Boring,” Wooyoung huffed, falling back on the couch. 

“Are we all ready to go?” Seonghwa’s voice asked as the last of them entered. 

Hongjoong turned and promptly, audibly, choked. 

For the first time… this Seonghwa looked nothing like his own. 

Instead of thin t-shirts and sneakers, he wore a snakeskin colored button up- a slim leather jacket pulled over it to match his pants that clung to him, deep brown boots with heels that made him just slightly taller. 

His hair, rather than falling loosely in his face, styled up- damp and mussed. His eyes were lined darkly, and several piercings dangled from his ears, glinting in the light. 

“Yes!” Wooyoung yelled triumphantly. “That is the vibe I want for tonight!” 

“Damn, hyung,” San chuckled. “I thought you were gonna go in your mourning clothing.” 

Seonghwa smiled- gentle in contrast with his dark clothing. “Yeah, well… I figured we do all deserve to take a night.” His eyes fell on Hongjoong, something in them becoming more reserved. “What?” he questioned gently. “Does it look bad?”

“He looks like he doesn’t even know what ripped jeans are, you don’t want his opinion,” Wooyoung assured Seonghwa. “Are we leaving?” 

Seonghwa glanced around at them all. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

Seungcheol’s party was apparently only a short walk away- down the same road their house resided on. Hongjoong kept his eyes on his shoes as they walked, everyone talking about people who might be there. 

Hongjoong didn’t look up. 

Seonghwa looked different. Different from how Hongjoong knew him, and different from what he had seen of this version. 

He looked different. 

And once again, Hongjoong was left wondering… if this might have been what they could be if they hadn’t become child soldiers by birth. 

If their biggest concern was stupid classes and clothing to were to parties… 

And the abuse for who they chose to love… 

A world where they were bound by laws and morals… unable to fight their way out because their enemies were too high up and too numerous… 

“Hey.” Seonghwa’s hand touched Hongjoong’s arm. 

He recognized the touch. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, Hongjoong not looking at him. 

Hongjoong’s blood felt unsettled as he stared at his shoes. “I… do not want your world,” he said absently. “The things I would have to give up… are things I would rather keep and be burned for.” 

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Seonghwa stare in confusion. And then it softened. “Okay,” he said gently. “That’s why we’re gonna try and get you home.”

Yunho hugged San suddenly, picking him up off the ground and dangling him as San whined and kicked. 

“Can… Can you be honest with me?” Seonghwa murmured heavily, his voice dragged down. 

“I don’t lie to spare feelings,” Hongjoong said mercilessly, glancing at Seonghwa. 

His expression was tense. “Truthfully,” he said quietly. “Do you… Do you think my Hongjoong is safe? If he is in your world?” 

Ah. 

Well, Hongjoong never lied. But he wondered what Seonghwa would do if he told him that Hongjoong was likely dead. 

Oddy, the thought of telling him that made his stomach twist. 

Hongjoong looked away quickly. “If my team decided to kill him, then he’s dead.” He saw Seonghwa look up in horror. “But,” he said firmly. “If they decided to keep him alive… then he’s the safest he can possibly be in my world.” 

If his team had decided to keep him under their wing, there was nothing that would touch him. 

“Which option they chose is completely unknowable.” 

Seonghwa looked barely comforted as he looked down, face a little paler, but still calm. “Right,” he whispered. “Thanks,” he said genuinely. 

“Hyung, did he mess up my hair?” Jongho asked with the side of his hair sticking up, taking Seonghwa’s attention. 

Hongjoong  _ heard  _ the house before they arrived- the thump of something like war drums in the distance. 

“Okay,” Wooyoung said, turning around and walking backwards. “You,” he said, pointing at Hongjoong. “Can either find a buddy for the night or pick a corner and sit there.” 

Hongjoong’s expression wrinkled as he glared. “Just find me somewhere to sit that won’t have a lot of people.” 

“Impossible, but we’ll do our best,” Wooyoung said, grinning as he clicked his tongue. 

Hongjoong felt the urge to strangle him. 

“I’ll find you somewhere people will probably ignore you,” Seonghwa assured him gently. 

There was… almost a smile on his lips. 

The house was decked out in flashing lights, and the inside was exploding with sound. Hongjoong hadn’t heard something similar ever in his life. Not even in Capital. “That’s why Seungcheol has the best parties,” Yunho said, looking excited. “He doesn't wait for it to get dark to start.” 

Wooyoung was already grabbing Yeosang, San yelling for them to wait up as they raced towards the house, shouting to someone they recognized. 

Mingi raced after them, yelling for the others to hurry up. 

Hongjong wrinkled his nose the closer they got- the music playing was deafening and everything smelled of sweat and alcohol. “And these… are fun?” He asked through his disgust. 

Seonghwa laughed nervously, shrugging. “Yeah. Depending on your personality. Yeosang’s not a fan of them. And Hongjoong-” He winced. “Hongjoong never used to go either, but that was before.” 

He frowned. “Before what?” he asked, having to raise his voice slightly at the increase of music as they stepped into the house. 

Seonghwa looked torn between guilty and stricken. “Before we started dating,” he admitted. “People used to hit on him, but we started going out together, and people mostly left him alone- especially after they realized he was gay.” He shrugged, clearly wanting to get off the subject.

Hongjoong had a list a mile long of why he hated this world. 

“Just find me somewhere to sit,” he said, arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

Seonghwa seemed only too happy to comply. And Hongjoong understood why Wooyoung called solitude impossible- there was barely room to walk, much less anywhere devoid of people who were all dancing and doing what looked like entirely intimate things while standing in a crowd. 

The closest thing Hongjoong could liken it to was the only raid they ever did in the heart of Capital- sneaking into a Capital party and weaving invisibly through the throngs of people who threw themselves around with wild abandon. 

It looked more like a cult than a party. By the end of the night, six people had died. Hongjoong didn’t think that was common practice here, though. 

The house was large, but Seonghwa eventually found him a seat in the corner of the living area with an empty chair. “Do you want a drink or anything?” Seonghwa yelled over the obnoxious music. 

Hongjoong shook his head, waving Seonghwa off. 

He would rather be alone now that they were here. 

He felt ill. And it had nothing to do with the claustrophobia of this place. 

“Just find one of us if something happens,” Seonghwa shouted. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Leave!” Hongjoong said instead of any sort of real response, glaring until Seonghwa’s expression fell and he nodded, walking away. 

Hongjoong was left alone with strangers dancing horrendously close to him. He settled back in the chair, arms crossing over his chest as he tried to imagine how the hell he was going to last hours in this place. 

He felt sick. He had been feeling sick for a long time. And he had been very pointedly not thinking about all the things that were causing it. 

Because Hongjoong knew exactly what was causing it. He had the exact list in his head, shoved so far back he would convince himself it was just how angry he was at the lack of fear these people had displayed towards him. 

One, that Hongjoong had revealed too much of himself to Seonghwa. Too many weaknesses and too many traumas. Things that no one but his own Seonghwa was supposed to ever know. 

No one else was allowed to see him that weak. 

Two, that this world was so ignorant, but held so many more horrors that Hongjoong couldn’t believe existed here. 

Three… that this Seonghwa existed as a different entity than his own- and he acknowledged that- but Hongjoong was still looking at him and only able to see one of the men he had left behind. That he felt that pinch in his chest at this Seonghwa’s pain… at his sadness… 

Disgusting. Inexcusable. 

Four… that… that the likelihood of Hongjoong returning to his world was growing increasingly slim. The likelihood of them aligning worlds again was nearly impossible. He may just… spend years or the rest of his life in this hell. Never seeing his team again. Never knowing what would happen to them. 

Five. That Hongjoong cared nothing for this Seonghwa… but… but... 

The hell that Hongjoong lived in was one he  _ chose-  _ he  _ chose  _ to attack, to create havoc and deal with the consequences. He  _ chose  _ to lead his team, he  _ chose  _ to survive each day, instead of running. 

Every aspect of this world… every “battle” that Seonghwa and his friends faced… they were involuntarily. 

Perhaps they weren't being threatened with death… but they were caught in a system they weren’t equipped to fight. That they were expected to stay within. Maybe… 

Maybe there were worse things to be threatened with than death. Was it better to die or be held prisoner in a faux utopia that didn’t allow  _ real  _ emotions, only the pre-approved ones?

And this was the part that made him ill. 

The fact that perhaps… perhaps Seonghwa had been right. Their lives were not horrific… but they were not perfect. 

And, finally, six… this Seonghwa loved his Hongjoong very… very much. And Hongjoong wasn’t entirely sure why that was important, nor why it made him so uncomfortable. But he knew that… that even if their loyalty was different… even if it wasn’t as deep as Hongjoong and his Seonghwa’s… 

That didn’t negate the fact that there was still inherent trust there. Trust, that was likely the only reason Hongjoong was safe here. The fact that Seonghwa had looked at him- a stranger, but still Hongjoong- and trusted that he would still have some of Hongjoong in him. 

Hongjoong apparently possessed qualities of both versions of himself. In the same way Seonghwa had some of his Seonghwa… 

They were different people. But… he supposed that their experiences made them different, even if their souls made them the same- Seonghwa was still Seonghwa. 

These carefree people… they were what his team might have been… 

Ah. 

With the force of a gag before you vomited, Hongjoong realized. 

If this is what his team might have been, without war and without death…. 

Had they lived in a world that was still alive… would he and Seonghwa have been like these two? 

Hongjoong did not love Seonghwa. That much, he knew. 

At least, he did not love him in that way. He had never looked at Seonghwa and felt a desire to kiss him. Never felt anything other than… 

Well, he didn’t know what he felt. Trust so deep, it was part of his blood. Companionship so tested, it was steel binding them together. The ability to fall anywhere, anytime… and know that he would be caught. 

If he was brave enough to examine it, Hongjoong might realize that it was probably very easy for he and Seonghwa to fall over that line. 

But…. Hongjoong was not brave. 

He was determined and a force to be reckoned with. He was anger and fire burning through the people who threatened them. He was dangerous and deadly and never ending… 

But he was not brave. 

The only reason he had survived so long, with so many demons snapping at his heels... was because Seonghwa and his team ran beside him. Hands caught his when he stumbled, and they carried him completely, if need be. 

Hongjoong would be nothing without his team. 

Perhaps that was the terrifying part… 

It was already… unimaginable to think about his life without his team. His companions. His support. His trust. 

He couldn’t even begin to understand what it might feel like to lose someone that was more than that to him. 

Losing Seonghwa was already a terrifying nightmare that clung to him like that Black Room’s chill. What would it do to him, losing him if he was something more than a trusted teammate? 

No. Hongjoong was not brave. He was stupid and headstrong and rarely did anything right. He was just… just a child trying to keep other children alive. Children who were looking to him. 

Hongjoong shook his head sharply, pressing his hands to his eyes. 

This place was messing with his head. Everything was too loud- the music, the people, his thoughts- 

“Hey, Joong!” A voice shouted, a hand slapping his shoulder before he was pulled into an abrupt hug. 

A boy with dark blonde hair grinned at him, holding a bright red cup that sloshed. He was very clearly drunk. 

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” he yelled, leaning far too close to Hongjoong who leaned back, stiffening. “Where’s Seonghwa?” he asked, glancing around in dumb confusion. “You guys are separated at a party?” he chuckled. “By this point, you’re usually up against a wall or something-” 

He leaned forward, going to touch Hongjoong’s shoulder, and Hongjoong swerved the touch, glaring as he stumbled, spilling his drink in Hongjoong’s lap. 

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered, straightening quickly. “Shit, sorry, man-” 

Hongjoong stood, ignoring the grossly sticky drink soaking into his pants. “I think I’ll find Seonghwa,” he said coldly, already shoving through the crowd. 

“Hey, maybe you won’t need those pants for long!” he called good naturedly, like it was an inside joke or something. Hongjoong quickly lost him in the crowd, shoving through to a kitchen. 

The people inside were playing some game with cups and small balls, but Hongjoong brushed passed them- 

An arm was suddenly slung around his neck, pulling him back. “Hongjoong!” a voice squealed. “Where the hell have you been? Have you been skipping? I haven’t seen you in class-” 

Hongjong shoved the arm off of him, feeling entirely too on edge and claustrophobic. The boy frowned in drunken disappointment as the others called for him to keep playing whatever they were doing. 

“Where’s Seonghwa?” he demanded. If this person knew him, maybe he knew Seonghwa, too. 

“Se-Seonghwa?” he hiccupped, frowning deeper. “Uhh… I think I only saw San and Mingi running around… Some of your guys were out by the pool earlier, though.” 

Hongjoong was already leaving. Even if he didn’t force Seonghwa to leave with him, he needed- 

Hongjoong jerked to a halt in the middle of a hallway- uncaring of the people scattered along it doing… rather intimate tasks. 

Hongjoong stared, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. 

Was he really… about to try and seek out Seonghwa for some sort of comfort? Shielding? As if he needed someone else at his side in the face of  _ drunken teenagers?  _ Was he truly so pathetic? 

What would being near Seonghwa do?

Were it his world, being near Seonghwa would be whatever he needed at the time. Was he truly trying to seek him out? 

Hongjoong shook his head sharply, continuing to walk through the house. Really, he was storming through, people glancing at him curiously. 

There was another sitting room, filled with more dancing bodies and pounding music, flashing lights and dark shadows… it made him feel dizzy just looking at it. 

Hongjoong intended to just glance in and then leave in further search of the pool, but he paused as he caught sight of a familiar quiff of dark hair. He turned back to the room, squinting through the flashing red lights- 

He very clearly saw Seonghwa’s familiar shape pressed against a wall, another boy pressed so close to him, they seemed to merge, their lips locked in what looked like a violent, desperate kiss. 

Hongjoong… 

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped in a way… he was utterly unprepared for. 

A sickening swoop that made him nearly gag as he stared at the sight- the boy’s hand fisting Seonghwa’s hair, crowding him against the wall- 

And for a moment… for a terrifying moment… more terrifying than Hongjoong could have ever imagined… 

For a terrifying moment… Hongjoong felt betrayal. 

Despite the fact that it was not his Seonghwa… Hongjoong felt betrayal on behalf of this Hongjoong. 

Betrayal… because he had trusted this Seonghwa. 

And he hadn’t even realized he trusted him until it was shattered on the floor. 

_ “And you aren’t Hongjoong… so I wouldn’t be in that bed anyway with you in it.”  _

_ “My Hongjoong is kind and bright and everything I didn’t know I needed in my life.”  _

_ “But… But you’re wearing the face of someone I care very deeply for… and I don’t like looking at you like this.” _

_ “You care for your Hongjoong… that much?” _

_ “Yeah… Yeah, I do.”  _

No… 

No, Seonghwa wouldn't be doing something like this. His Hongjoong  _ very  _ obviously meant too much to him, he would never- 

Something was wrong. 

Hongjoong stepped into the room quickly, storming towards the two of them- 

As he drew closer, through the flashing lights, he saw Seonghwa’s hands shoving at the boy’s chest, one of his arms trying wedge between him and the other boy- 

And his expression very clearly drawn in frantic distress- 

Hongjoong burst forward the moment he realized Seonghwa was fighting. 

“What?” the boy snapped, still pinning him to the wall. “I thought you were into boys? I thought you liked d-” 

Seonghwa could get angry at Hongjoong all he liked. 

It did not change the fact Hongjoong nearly broke the boy’s arm, twisting it behind his back and shoving to the ground, slamming his foot into his back- 

The boy hit the ground with a loud shout that was drowned out by the music as Hongjoong planted his boot on his neck, pressing down as he drew the boy’s arm back like he wanted to rip it off, intending to break his neck for touching him, for attacking him-

For  _ forcing himself  _ on Seonghwa-

“ _ Hongjoong- _ ” 

A hand was suddenly pulling him away from the body he pinned down, and Hongjoong yanked his arm away violently, turning back and glaring- 

_ Daring  _ Seonghwa to try and stop him. 

“Don’t,” Seonghwa begged desperately, wiping at his mouth, his hands shaking and breathing uneven. “Don’t- Just- Let’s just go-” He swallowed nervously, glancing at the boy. “Hongjoong,  _ please _ , I just- Let’s just go, come on-” 

He tugged at Hongjoong once more, eyes desperate and afraid. 

Hongjong felt the way his weak grip trembled, and glared at the boy still crying on the floor, holding his neck in pain. 

When Seonghwa pulled him away once more, Hongjoong let him tug him out of the room frantically. 

That was twice now that Seonghwa had stopped Hongjoong from killing people who deserved it. 

_ “We lay low. We do it to fucking survive and not draw that sort of attention to ourselves! Maybe we aren’t getting beaten in the streets, but no one is going to come to our defense.”  _

Hongjoong nearly tore his arm out to go back and finish the job. 

But he could feel Seonghwa shaking as he pulled Hongjoong through the house, shoving open the front door. 

Night had fallen. It was dark, aside from the streetlights that glowed. 

The air was crisper, hitting Hongjoong violently in the face as Seonghwa stumbled out onto the porch, the sounds of inside muted as he practically collapsed on the front steps, leaning over his knees and breathing heavily- 

_ Seonghwa was curled on the floor after falling from his chair, his fingers tangled in his hair as he bent over himself, like he was trying to disappear.  _

_ Hongjoong would hear his ragged breaths, too short and rapid-  _

_ He dropped to his knees beside him, lost for a moment before instinct brought his hand to Seonghwa’s back, rubbing up and down his spine slowly, his heart racing almost as fast as Seonghwa’s as he desperately tried to figure a course of action.  _

_ Seonghwa would not speak while like this- Hongjoong had no idea what was happening nor how to stop it, and Seonghwa was unable to tell him.  _

_ So, in terrifying helplessness, Hongjoong just whispered quietly as he rubbed Seonghwa’s back until the panicked breathing began to subside, turning into gasps as he gained control and tears fell-  _

Hongjoong sat on the step beside Seonghwa, and hesitated for a moment before slowly laying hand at the top of his back. 

He felt Seonghwa stiffen under the touch, and Hongjoong nearly snatched it back, wanting to cut his own hand off just to avoid making this choice- 

He slowly ran it up and down Seonghwa’s back, his hand warming the leather beneath his skin. 

Despite the fact that he knew there wouldn’t be, the lack of immediate reaction made Hongjong want to stop. He did not give  _ comfort-  _

He gave comfort to Seonghwa. Just not this Seonghwa. 

They were different. But also the same. 

Hongjoong swallowed the part of him that said to run and just rubbed his back, since Seonghwa had not jerked away from the touch. 

It felt odd. Like being split between past and present. 

Seonghwa suddenly sat up, taking a deep breath and wiping at his eyes with his palms. 

He was crying. 

Hongjoong hadn’t noticed he was crying. 

“Sorry,” he said weakly, tears still streaming even as he tried to brush them away. “That… that’s never happened before.” He wiped a hand over his mouth, looking ill. “I guess… I guess not having Hongjoong there took away from the deterrent most people see.” 

And Hongjong knew that this wasn't what Seonghwa was referring to, but he still felt guilt strike through his stomach. 

As if it was his job to be there beside this Seonghwa. And Hongjoong knew it wasn’t. 

But logic had never been easy to come by in certain situations. Namely, when one of his team got hurt. It didn’t matter what he had done, what he hadn’t done- all that mattered was that it hadn’t been enough. 

Seonghwa wasn’t his team. 

But Hongjoong was currently not thinking about that fact. He stared at Seonghwa who laughed at himself, still wiping at his cheeks. 

“Fucking assholes,” he chuckled weakly, sounding moments from breaking down. He smiled, lips trembling dangerously. 

Hongjoong couldn't tell if he was trying to hold himself together for Hongjoong’s sake or if he just didn’t want to let it get to him. 

Regardless, Hongjoong’s expression was cold as ice. “I’ll kill him if you want me to.” 

Seonghwa laughed, and somehow it only made more tears fall as he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “No,” he assured him thickly. “No, just… just give me a minute.” 

Hongjoong felt an urge to go back and break his neck regardless. 

Seonghwa’s phone was sticking out of his back pocket. Hongjoong pulled it out, sliding it open, finding the messaging app already open. 

Surprisingly, there was no passcode. Seonghwa looked up, red eyes tight in confusion. “W-What are you doing?”

“Texting Wooyoung,” he said flatly. “Telling him we’re going back to the house-” 

“We don’t-” 

“Are you saying you want to go back in there?” Hongjoong demanded sharply, making Seonghwa wince slightly. 

But Seonghwa shook his head slowly. “No… but if you tell them what happened, it’s going to ruin their night. They’ll never stay if they know.” 

“Are you telling me to lie to them?” Hongjoong asked, lifting a slow eyebrow. “Are you saying they don’t deserve to know?” 

“No,” Seonghwa said quickly, shaking his head. “But just… They’ll all come home if you tell them. I just… Just wait an hour,” he requested. “I just want a minute. I don’t want them all swarming- even if they mean well. Please, Hongjoong.” 

As much as Hongjoong held firm to the fact that begging would never change his mind… he handed the phone back to Seonghwa. 

“Whatever,” he said firmly. “It’s your life.” 

Seonghwa stared at his phone, closing out of the app and staring at the photo on his homescreen. 

Whereas Hongjoong had had a photo of all eight of them, Seonghwa’s background was just of him and Hongjoong. 

It was  _ that  _ picture- the one of them kissing and smiling. 

Seonghwa laughed wetly as he stared at it. “This was during New Years,” he said quietly, voice tight with emotions that kept threatening to take over again. “It was… It was a good night.” He smiled. 

The smile trembled and then broke as he let go of a breath that turned into half a sob. 

He bent over his knees, clutching the phone to his chest. “I miss him  _ so fucking much _ ,” he cried into his knees quietly. “I- I’m not blaming you,” he choked out. “It’s not your fault- but I miss him so  _ fucking much _ .” 

Hongjoong… did not expect the way his chest tightened as Seonghwa tried to breathe in calming breaths that kept turning into sobs. 

“It’s barely been a week,” Seonghwa choked, scrubbing at his eyes. “But it’s just- I can’t- I can’t fucking think about what if he never comes home. What if he’s already dead-” He sucked in a harsh breath, shaking his head. “There’s so many fucking things that could go wrong, and I just  _ don’t know- _ ” 

That, Hongjoong knew… was the most terrifying moment. When you didn’t know. 

When all you knew was that they were gone, but you didn’t know where or how to get them back. When there were a million options, and you were terrified the choice you made was the wrong one. 

Hongjoong stood, taking Seonghwa’s arm and pulling him slowly to his feet. “Come on,” he ordered firmly, eyes dim. “If you’re going to cry, do it somewhere that isn’t the doorstep. Let’s go.” 

Seonghwa stumbled a bit, but he straightened himself, walking down the path silently, with nothing but his quiet breaths and half-sobs to break the silence. 

Hongjoong was dark and silent beside him. 

How could Seonghwa not want him to go back there and crush that boy’s throat? 

His anger simmered, even as Seonghwa calmed down. They reached the house just as he was wiping away tears that finally were not being replaced. 

“Thanks,” Seonghwa croaked as they entered the house, shedding his jacket. “For… helping.” 

“I’ll still kill him,” Hongjoong warned him, his blood warm with anger, hands twitching as Seonghwa stood there… looking small. 

He laughed weakly, wiping at his face once more. “Why?” he asked wetly. “Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to care?” 

Hongjoong stared at the tears still clinging to his lashes, the red splotches on his face, his lips that were slightly bruised… 

He thought of the betrayal in his stomach at the thought that Seonghwa was with someone else… the utter rage that made him want to break that boy in half for ever touching him, for hurting him like that… 

The anger that still simmered in his blood. 

“Maybe I am,” Hongjoong admitted quietly, voice rough. 

Seonghwa nearly dropped his jacket, staring back at him. 

“Maybe ‘care’ is too strong a word,” Hongjoong warned, feeling robotic. “But if you ask me to… I will go back and kill that boy.” 

That was one thing on the list of things that Hongjoong would do, if Seonghwa asked him. 

Seonghwa’s expression was slightly pale, his mouth opening twice with nothing coming out, like he was choking. 

He swallowed as Hongjoong stared. 

“I… I don’t need you to kill anyone,” Seonghwa finally managed quietly. “But… would you be willing to eat dinner with me?” he asked gently. “I need something to get that out of my mouth.” 

Hongjoong stared- the way Seonghwa’s eyes flickered around him, taking him in, as if seeing him for the first time. 

The almost hopeful light in his eyes as he gestured towards the kitchen weakly, hands still trembling slightly. 

Hongjoong looked away when he could hold his gaze no longer. 

“Fine,” he answered quietly, not looking at Seonghwa’s reaction. 

This world was making him crazier than the Black Room ever had. 

~~~~~~~~

It felt like hours had passed. 

According to Yeosang, it was barely twenty minutes. The two of them sat in silence as Hongjoong turned the knife over and over in his hands, leg bouncing agitatedly. 

Everything sounded too quiet. 

“Bounce your leg again, and I’ll cut it off,” Yeosang warned without even glancing at Hongjoong, voice flat. 

Hongjoong stilled his leg and immediately felt the urge to keep going. “Wooyoung said you were… the most emotional out of all of them.” 

Why not start another fight? What was one more? Hongjoong was a dumbass either way. 

“Wooyoung needs to learn to shut his damn mouth.” Despite the threat there, his voice remained quiet and emotionless. 

“He said you guys need to control your emotions because otherwise, they’ll be exploited.” 

“Now,  _ you  _ need to shut your damn mouth.” 

“Did Hongjoong find all of you?” Hongjoong questioned, after only a moment of silence. “Seonghwa said he found him in a scrap heap- did he find all of you like that?” 

“Do you ever shut up?” Yeosang demanded, finally glancing at Hongjoong in annoyance. “Go upstairs if you’re going to be annoying.” 

“Wooyoung told me to watch you.” 

“Wooyoung is a dumbass.” 

“You trust him, don’t you?” Hongjoong asked expectedly. 

Yeosang finally glared at him, eyes darkening beneath the smudge of his birthmark. “You don’t understand anything about how we trust each other.” 

Hongjoong ignored the claim. 

“Then why don’t you trust him sending me down here?” Hongjoong challenged. “If he told me to be here, can’t you trust that he made a call he believed to be necessary?”

Yeosang settled back against the pillow angrily. “Like I said, he’s a dumbass,” he muttered. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. These people… they were no longer frightening. They were just angry. And angry people were a pain in the ass to talk to. 

“You’ll get your leader back.” 

Yeosang’s glare could have melted steel, but Hongjoong just stared at the knife. 

“I know you trust him to get back to you and everything,” He assured him. “But… if he’s anything like me… he’s not going to let himself be kept from you.” 

“We know that,” Yeosang hissed. “ _ We  _ never doubted that.” 

Hongjoong hummed quietly. “Well… I have plenty of doubts. Enough for all eight of us,” he huffed, lifting his eyes to stare at Yeosang. 

Hongjoong saw something move out of the corner of his eye. 

And he knew Yeosang saw it too, both of them turning- 

He knew Yeosang saw something by the way he stiffened, even if Hongjoong didn’t see what it actually was. 

But he threw himself forward anyway. 

His torso was thrown over Yeosang’s, and Hongjoong felt the semi-familiar sensation of a blade striking across his skin. 

Rather than plunging into the person on the bed, though, the blade was knocked off course by Hongjoong’s moving body, not even tearing the thick black clothing he wore-

It still hurt like a bitch. 

Hongjoong cried out even as he threw his legs over, rolling over Yeosang’s battered body and coming up, standing with his knife held- 

A man stood at the mouth of the stairs, wearing all black and a mask- like the clothing Hongjoong wore, but plainer. 

The man charged forward. 

Hongjoong was suddenly hit with the fact that there was someone attacking. Someone was attacking him and Yeosang, they wanted to kill them- 

He had the knife. 

“Lunge!” Yeosang yelled. 

Hongjoong closed his eyes and lunged forward, thrusting the knife out- 

A hand caught his wrist, twisting it, forcing Hongjoong around- 

Hongjoong cried out, dropping the knife, even as he slammed his head back, feeling something (most likely the man’s nose) crunch beneath his skull. 

The man dropped quickly, shouting violently as he clutched his bleeding nose. Hongjoong dropped quickly, snatching the knife again, stumbling back, glancing at Yeosang- 

He was sitting up, the man’s knife held in hand and his face pale with the effort to move- 

“Turn!” Yeosang warned, jerking forward. 

Hongjoong whipped around, already thrusting with the knife he held with both hands. A man leapt back, glaring murderously as he lunged forward- 

Hongjoong yelped, jerking to the side, the man barrelling past him towards Yeosang- 

But Yeosang stared past Hongjoong. “Behind!” he shouted as the man collided with him. 

Hongjoong whipped around, blood pumping so quickly, he was becoming dizzy- 

He didn’t even turn completely before the hilt of a knife was slamming into the back of his head. 

Hongjoong got no choice. No moment to fight. Not even a chance to try and get help. Not even a moment to make sure Yeosang was safe. 

He crumpled like a can beneath a car, hitting the ground hard and his vision going black so quickly it was terrifying. 

Yeosang, alone and injured, against however-many men… was infinitely more terrifying. 

Hongjoong prayed. Even as he blacked out. 

Prayed that Seonghwa got back in time, like he had for Hongjoong. 

He was pretty useless, wasn’t he?

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong stared at the pizza Seonghwa had had delivered to them, one piece missing that Seonghwa ate slowly. 

Seonghwa stopped chewing, mouth still half-full. “What?” he asked around the food quietly. “Don’t make me eat this by myself…” 

Hongjoong continued to stare, his stomach twisting and churning… his blood feeling like oil had slipped in there, dark and poisonous. 

“Hey.” 

Hongjoong glanced up slowly. 

Seonghwa smiled weakly. “I’m okay,” he said, as if Hongjoong had asked. “It freaked me out, but nothing happened. I’ll be okay.” 

_ “It was nothing but a scare. Nothing happened, Hongjoong. My own mind is simply finding it hard to distinguish reality and dreams. I’ll be fine. Now, what are we looking over?”  _

Hongjoong’s fists clenched on the table. 

Seonghwa lowered the pizza slowly, expression drawing down. “Are you okay?” he asked, as if Hongjoong was the one who had been pinned to a wall. 

Hongjoong’s mouth felt dry. Everything felt too tight and suffocating. 

“You aren’t my Seonghwa,” he whispered, staring blankly at the table. 

“... I know,” Seonghwa replied gently. 

“Then why…” Hongjoong’s mind screamed for him to stop talking. “Why… do I keep acting like you are?” 

Seonghwa was the one who had the answers when Hongjoong didn’t. 

Hongjoong was ready to go insane for each time he glanced at Seonghwa and forgot which one he was. And he currently didn’t care if it was the  _ wrong  _ Seonghwa, it was  _ Seonghwa _ . 

And Hongjoong was hoping to God that this Seonghwa could give him some guidance, like the other had. 

“How do you act like I am?” Seonghwa asked carefully, leaning forward. “Being worried about me?” 

“ _ Everything,”  _ Hongjoong hissed, nails digging into his palm. “Everything you do, I compare to him- but you’re not him, you’re not  _ supposed  _ to be him. Even as I understand that you’re a separate person, I still-” 

He glanced at Seonghwa. At the still-redness to his eyes. The streaks on his cheeks. The mess of his hair from that boy’s hands. 

“There are only seven people on this earth that I am afraid for,” Hongjoong hissed hoarsely. “And you are not supposed to be one of them.” 

“Hongjoong… you don’t have to…” Seonghwa’s expression pinched in that gentle pain, as if he was feeling Hongjoong’s torment. “You can care about people other than your team. It’s not bad that you’re worried about someone-” 

“Why should I worry for you?” Hongjoong snapped weakly. “Unless you’re my Seonghwa- why should I give a  _ damn  _ about what happens to you?” 

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together for a moment, contemplating. “Do you… do you care what happens to me because I’m me? Or because you can’t help but imagine it happening to your Seonghwa?” 

Ah. Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? The question that Hongjoong needed help answering. 

“This has already happened to my Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said dully. “The breakdowns, the fear, the hesitation- I’ve already seen him wear all of those badges that Capital pinned to him. I’ve seen them once, I never wanted to see them again-” 

Seonghwa had cried. Hongjoong could still see the remnants in his eyes. 

Did it hurt… because Hongjoong remembered his own Seonghwa’s tears? How heavy his burden must have been for him to break, again and again, while Hongjoong stood by, useless?

Or was it… Like Seonghwa said… just the “right thing” to do? Empathy and learning to connect with someone, even if they weren’t in his immediate concern?

Which one was it?

Hongjoong had felt all this for days now, but it was the first time he wanted to voice it. To get it off of his chest before it choked him- unloading it onto Seonghwa as he always did, regardless of which Seonghwa it was. 

“Does… Does it matter?” Hongjoong finally asked, voice stiffening. 

Seonghwa thought for a moment. And then shook his head. “I don’t really think so,” he admitted. “But it might help you figure yourself out, if you can answer that.” 

Seonghwa picked up a piece and held it out to Hongjoong. 

“You never need to have immediate answers for what you feel,” Seonghwa assured him gently as Hongjoong slowly took the food. “As long as you know which answers you need to figure out… you’ll get there eventually.” 

This Seonghwa… wanted to help people. 

He wanted to understand them and have them understand themselves… Something Hongjoong had never seen from his own Seonghwa. Something gentle in every place his Seonghwa had been rough and brash. 

But he stared at this one. 

At Seonghwa. 

And he figured… maybe… maybe this time… something gentler… was what he needed. 

~~~~~~~

Seonghwa plunged his sword through a man’s chest, feeling it pass through into the hard earth, ignoring the death cries as he looked around quickly. 

San kicked a man off his knife, eyes as sharp as glass as they all frantically looked around. 

“Yunho, Mingi,” Seonghwa snapped into his earpiece, “did you find any others?” 

There was a moment of static before Yunho’s voice came back. “Nothing,” he reported, confusion audible beneath the stiffness of anger. “Jongho just finished his check. Not a single other person.” 

Wooyoung frowned, glancing around at the six bodies scattered and bleeding, soaking the earth with its first moisture in years. “There’s only this many?” he said, breathing slightly labored through his mask. 

Seonghwa stared into the distance, seeing nothing but heat waves and ash in the air. 

And he felt his heart seizing, his lungs falling silent as he turned- searching and finding nothing. Not even a vehicle racing their way. 

Something… 

“They’ve never sent so little,” San said, voice low and pensive- as if waiting for more to leap from the smouldering bushes. 

Wooyoung stabbed the man on the ground with his rapier once more when he began to twitch, eyes hardened with suspicion. 

Something wasn’t right. 

“How did we get such a large perimeter alarm?” Seonghwa muttered beneath his breath, still scanning, still ignorantly demanding that more appear. 

“Did they find a way to fuck with our sensors?” Wooyoung demanded, grip tightening on his sword as he pulled his brim down against the wind that carried more ash towards them. 

San’s expression was dark, looking to Seonghwa for answers. “If they found a way to fuck with them, they would have made it so that we didn’t know they were coming at all.” 

Yes…

Seonghwa’s blood seemed to slow in his veins, stopping himself from searching out a Hongjoong who wasn’t here as he tried to understand. 

Something was wrong. 

This didn’t make sense. 

If they were able to get into their system, they should have cut the sensors completely, snuck up on them while they were still in mansion and never suspecting anything was wrong. 

They should have stormed the mansion without ever giving them a chance to prepare, to arm themselves and wipe them out. They should have never even known these men were in their base- 

Seonghwa’s blood suddenly ran cold. 

“The base,” he breathed, horrific realization settling over him like a gentle blanket of snow. 

Both Wooyoung and San stared at him in confusion for only a moment before similar horror dawned on their faces. 

There was a reason that Seonghwa was not the leader. Why, despite his ability to keep up with and mimic Hongjoong, he was not the one constantly leading them. 

Because Seonghwa was rash. 

No matter what Hongjoong claimed, Seonghwa was notorious for not thinking. It just so happened that he was better at forcing himself to think when he had Hongjoong to remind him not to just storm an enemy base. 

Seonghwa was rash. And so he didn’t even wait for Wooyoung and San to realize what was happening before he was sprinting back to the base. 

“It was a  _ fucking distraction _ ,” he hissed into the burning air, his entire body feeling icy despite the heat slamming into him, ash stinging against his skin- 

Yeosang and Hongjoong were still in the base. 

They must know Yeosang was injured, but they didn’t know this was the wrong Hongjoong. 

Right? 

If they were able to get into their system, what else did they know? Had they realized Hongjoong had been inactive? Or was Hongjoong never part of the plan?

Was their plan to grab one of their injured while the others were distracted, as a petty payback… and they would just happen to come across Hongjoong?

Stumbling across their grand prize while looking to take out a simple henchman. 

Seonghwa nearly tripped- a stupid, stupid mistake- but he caught himself, his gloves hands shoved him back up from the gravel as he raced faster than his heart. 

Yeosang was in no condition to protect Hongjoong. 

And Hongjoong was grossly unprepared to protect himself. 

Seonghwa did not expect the fear that shot through him. Fear meant doubt, he couldn't doubt- 

Were it his Hongjoong, he wouldn’t doubt, but it  _ wasn’t.  _ It wasn’t his capable Hongjoong, it was a different one- whose skills were limited to perseverance and creating useless art and trying to be happy- 

Seonghwa had never… never in his life needed to protect someone completely defenseless. Someone so utterly inept, like a child clinging to him and crying as blood flew. 

He didn’t know what to brace himself for. 

Would they kill Hongjoong when they realized he couldn’t fight? Would they skip the process of trying to break him and just run him through?

The thought almost made him trip once more as the base came into view. 

He could hear San and Wooyoung behind him. He could hear them through his radio, telling the others to get the hell back to the base. 

Seonghwa still ran- likely faster than he had run in… a long fucking time. He had never had to be so desperate before. Never before had he been racing to someone so powerless against everything. 

Yeosang was too injured to move, much less fight- would they kill him too?

Seonghwa did not want to doubt, but fear was overtaking all of his senses- 

He couldn’t let them die. 

He refused to be that powerless. 

He refused to see Hongjoong, still as death. He refused to have left Yeosang so defenseless- 

He should have  _ known.  _ If he were smarter- if he were  _ Hongjoong-  _ he would have known, he would have figured it out sooner- 

He could not be too late. 

Seonghwa leapt over all the steps, practically slamming into the door and shoving it open, eyes frantically searching for a struggle, for blood- 

He ran for the infirmary, not even bothering to search every room on the way- shoving the door open and practically falling down the stairs. 

_ Please.  _

Please don’t be too late, please, don’t have him fail Hongjoong, not like this, he couldn’t fail like this- 

Don’t be dead. 

He practically tripped down the last step, barely catching himself as he breathed heavily, looking around the dim room- 

Yeosang lay on the ground, surrounded by blood and the bodies of three men in black. 

He wasn’t dead though. He lay on his stomach, half-pushed up on one arm that clutched a bloodied knife, as his other pressed to his side that was bleeding too much- 

He was still alive. He was still conscious, it hadn’t been long- 

He saw Seonghwa through an agonized expression, wheezing breaths as blood poured over his hands. 

He was the only one in the room. 

Seonghwa had never needed to fear like this. It had been decades since true fear had clouded his senses so thoroughly, leaving him unable to do anything but stand and stare in terror- 

Yeosang choked, some blood flying from his mouth as he grit his teeth, expression half-desperate, half pained. 

Seonghwa already knew what he was going to say. 

It didn’t make it any easier as Yeosang managed to spit out enough blood to rasp fearfully- 

“ _ They took Hongjoong. _ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!  
> I hope you all enjoyed, but please let me know what you think!  
> I hope the have the next chapter out on time, but it’s a little shifty right now!  
> Have an amazing day!!!  
> -SS


	7. Your Pain Is Our Fear, Your Death Is My End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think this is a chapter I’ll ever be satisfied with, but I’ve read through it and don’t know what else to do with it ㅠㅠㅠ  
> But thank you so much for all the love!! You guys are seriously amazing-  
> A SECOND OF MY WORKS HAS HIT 1000 KUDOS AND I WANT TO HUG EVERY ONE OF YOU >ㅇ<  
> But I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please let me know if it’s disappointing, and let me know what you thought was good~  
> Have an amazing day, all you amazing people!!  
> -SS

Seonghwa was staring at his phone. Hongjoong was trying to eat without throwing it back up. 

Seonghwa’s thumb fiddled with the home button idly as he worried his lip. 

“I should probably call the others,” Seonghwa murmured heavily. “But… I don’t think I’m ready yet.” His eyes were strained with indecision. 

“You weren’t seriously injured,” Hongjoong said, feeling like he was speaking through a fog. Everything felt slightly disconnected. “If you don’t feel ready… don’t call yet.” 

That was Seonghwa’s choice. He would tell them eventually, but he should be allowed his own time to gain control before facing them. 

Hongjoong had been horrendous at respecting choices. 

Seonghwa hummed, staring for another moment at his phone before setting it down, looking a little less burdened. 

Hongjoong watched the way his shoulders unbunched, his face losing a bit of tension at the prospect of not having to face the crowd yet. 

“My Seonghwa,” he found himself saying, tongue nearly tripping over itself. “While he was recovering… he often wanted to be alone. He would…” He shoved rogue memories aside. “...Beg and demand and threaten you to leave him alone. He never yelled,” He whispered hoarsely. “But he’d do anything else just to be alone.” 

Everything was all out of focus. Too unbalanced. Like a tipping scale. 

Seonghwa paused, as if showing that every part of his body was focused on listening. 

“He’d do it all… but I knew it wasn’t what he wanted,” Hongjoong murmured, staring at the food, but seeing things years in the past. “Even if his voice was begging me to just leave… his eyes… they begged not to leave him alone.” 

Hongjoong remembered the first time it had happened. The first time he had made the split second call to stay. 

Seonghwa had even drawn his knife- holding it in hands that were shaking, but were never supposed to shake. He had stared at Hongjoong with eyes that held no trace of the person Hongjoong knew. 

There was only fear. 

“I don’t know why being in that Room…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know why it makes you unable to control yourself.” He also didn’t know why he was still talking. “But I knew… I knew that after you’re free of that hell, being alone is your greatest fear, even as you’re staring at the people around you and fearful of what they might do to you. Being alone is worse than the paranoia… A thousand times worse...” 

Being alone meant there was no one to draw you back. Being alone meant you were free to float and wander, until you were so deep, so lost, you could barely recognize yourself in the mirror. 

“Your team… is really lucky,” Seonghwa murmured gently, looking torn between pity and something warmer. “To have you. Being in a world like that…” 

Seonghw’s lips pressed together, as if he was debating whether or not to say something. Hongjoong waited, expression drawing in. 

He never looked at either Seonghwa with anything close to gentleness. Even if there was no glare, Hongjoong didn’t know how to turn off the dangerous obsidian of his eyes or the tightness of his jaw. 

But Seonghwa still looked at him gently, as if Hongjoong was reciprocating. 

“I don’t think I ever really realized… just how much you needed to be like this to survive,” Seonghwa admitted quietly, long fingers folded tightly on the table. “Even after I understood, I still just wondered why you couldn’t change. Why you couldn’t just loosen up, stop being so difficult…” 

A clear flash of guilt overtook Seonghwa’s face that twisted slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, yet another thing he was apologizing for. “Ever since you got here, I haven’t exactly been easy on you, either. I expected you to just be able to turn off these parts of yourself that you had drilled in as part of _survival…_ and I yelled at you when you couldn’t. So, I’m sorry… again,” he said, something almost amused there. 

Hongjoong didn’t know what to do. 

So he just took a bite of food. 

And he ignored the apology had hit too close to somewhere delicate. 

“And your Seonghwa,” he said quietly, making Hongjoong freeze. “He’s really lucky to have someone like you… in whatever way he does.” 

Hongjoong expected him to stop there. But Seonghwa smiled gently. 

“But I think you’re really lucky, too. Because I think there’s no way he doesn’t know how lucky he is.” 

And Hongjoong was, yet again, not prepared for how the words slammed into his chest, somehow harder than Seonghwa’s tears had. 

Hongjoong looked away- a coward. 

Seonghwa continued to stare softly- immune as always to the hell he began. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong came to just as he was dragged out of a truck, his feet hitting the ground heavily, his head pounding as he groaned- 

Both his arms were held, and his feet were unable to find enough purchase on the ground to stop as he was dragged over dirt and gravel before a heavy metal door slid open. 

Hongjoong, first, realized that he was not dead. 

He realized, second, that the people who had him were very likely not people who would keep him that way for long. 

Hongjoong began to struggle, weakly trying to get his footing as he tugged on his arm frantically, barely even able to open his eyes with his head pounding- 

A fist caught Hongjoong across the face, taking him so much by surprise, he couldn’t stop the way he cried out, eyes burning as his cheek throbbed, legs giving out without warning. 

“Stay still, scum,” a thin voice ordered angrily from his left, continuing to drag him even as his legs dangled uselessly. 

“Don’t know how people ever thought you were worth something,” a voice on his right scoffed, fingers tightening with bruising force on his arm, a thousand times worse than anything Seonghwa had done, but secondary to the throb of his head that stole his breath for a moment. “This is pathetic.” 

“Must have breathed the air outside one too many times,” they sneered. “He’s as useless as a half-drowned kitten.” 

_Fight_ , Hongjoong’s mind begged. But the pain in his jaw was still making it hard to _breathe._ He couldn’t focus. 

Hongjoong had never been in a fight. And any hit he had ever received was never meant to break and almost kill, like these were. 

For the first time… Hongjoong believed them. 

How pathetic he was being. 

They were probably going to kill him, but he was whimpering over a bruised jaw. He’d have a lot worse than that if he didn’t fucking _fight._

But he still felt his stomach shrivel, like those moments where Seonghwa had first stood over him and fear had grabbed Hongjoong so tightly, he couldn’t even bring his pulse to pump. 

The only people they had ever brought up were Capital. Hongjoong had to be in their clutches. 

They reached metal stairs at the end of the hall, his body dragged down them with his booted feet barely catching on the steps as he feared that they might just throw him down. 

Were they going _underground?_

“What a sorry excuse for a leader,” one of them muttered when Hongjoong flinched at the sound of a heavy door closing. “What happened to that guy who broke Lee’s arm with his knee?”

_They thought he was Hongjoong._

They thought he was _that_ Hongjoong- the leader, the fighter- 

Instinct told him to start telling them he wasn’t. 

As if that would work. At best, they laughed and called him insane. At worst, they beat him for trying something so stupid. 

_Think._

Don’t prove all of them right, don’t be useless- just _do something._

He stumbled as he was lead through dark halls, only lit with flickering lights on the ceiling. The whole hallway seemed to be made from metal, their footsteps echoing loudly. 

Everything hurt. 

His blood was racing, but it felt like ice. He tried to glance around, but a hand gripped his hair tightly. 

“ _Do not move_ unless you want that neck cut,” the voice on his left hissed, scoffing when Hongjoong made a pained noise as he practically tried to tear his hair out. 

His head was released, and Hongjoong felt more ice beginning to cloud his thoughts as he tried to gain enough strength to move _something._

Capital was the only place that made sense for him to be. If so, he was very much going to die. They had been hunting down Seonghwa and the others for years- they wanted them dead.

What were they going to do when they realized Hongjoong was useless?

Would they torture him for information he didn’t have? Just lock him up? Or was he being marched to whatever death they chose? 

His cheek throbbed. 

He wanted to go _home._

His breath came quick and short, panic taking over fear the deeper in the hall they went. 

He felt his eyes begin to burn as he stared at the endless seeming hallway, his heart slowly rising to his throat. 

He wanted Seonghwa. 

His Seonghwa- _Fuck it,_ either of them. Someone- _Someone_ so that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t supposed to even _be here-_

He wanted Seonghwa. _Someone_. 

He wanted to scream until he showed up. 

“God, are you really about to hyperventilate?” the voice scoffed. “You really must have hit your head or something, you pathetic excuse for a rebel.” 

Hongjoong wanted to break. He wanted to cry and kick- maybe buy time until Seonghwa got there. He wanted to beg them. He didn’t care anymore- 

_He wanted to go home._

But there was no home. No Seonghwa. No one. There was just Hongjoong, being marched off to somewhere- 

He swallowed thickly, praying that he didn’t cry- not in front of people who clearly were looking for weaknesses. 

Voice trembling, Hongjoong stared at the darkness. “Where… Where are you taking me?” he asked hoarsely. 

“Aw, is the baby scared?” A voice cooed, his grip tightening on Hongjoong, making him flinch. “You probably should be,” he warned. “I heard you’re still messed up after the last time you were in there.” 

Still messed up…? 

Hongjoong’s heart stop. 

_“The true horror of the Black Room is not what they do to you- they do nothing to you. You barely even know who you are as a person, and the only thing you do know is that you can never… never let yourself go back there.”_

Against his better judgement, Hongjoong slammed his heels into the ground, trying to stop the forces dragging him forward. 

That Room- the one that had hurt Seonghwa, Wooyoung, their Hongjoong- the one that had turned them nearly insane, barely able to hold onto their sanity- 

Another hand fisted his hair, twisting harshly and shoving him forward as he cried out, his brain kick starting and pounding wildly. 

Hongjoong wasn’t them. If it had done that to them, what the hell would it do to him?

Against every part of him begging him not to, his eyes began to water as fear built in his throat. 

He didn’t want to go. 

He wanted Seonghwa, someone- He didn’t want to go through that- 

“Look at that,” they chuckled, physically dragging Hongjoong by his hair. “I guess that room really does work. Imagine if your team saw you now.” 

They laughed cruelly. Hongjoong’s lungs begged for breath he hadn’t taken in too long. 

“Their fearless leader, crying like a little worm. What’s wrong?” he taunted, teeth too close to Hongjoong’s skin. “Scared of the dark?” 

Hongjoong jerked away, his body feeling like he was losing control over it, desperate and frantic. 

He barely felt it when they struck him in the gut, pulling him along before he even caught his footing, gagging- 

Hongjoong would take a physical beating if it meant not going into that Room that had scarred every person on that team in some, irreparable way. 

He kept struggling- weak and useless against both of them- but his legs kicked and his head whipped around, even when they snatched it, almost making him scream as they twisted his arm behind his back. 

It was futile. But it was enough to slow them down. 

“ _Stay still-_ ” 

Hongjoong’s eyes were clenched shut- against the pain and trying to convince himself that this wasn’t really happening. 

Seonghwa was coming… 

Right? 

He… He wouldn’t leave Hongjoong, right? 

They tore him up from the ground (when had he fallen?) and shoved him forward, Hongjoong continuing to fight desperately. 

No, he wouldn’t leave him. He hadn’t let him die outside, he hadn’t let any of the others harm him, he had softened to Hongjoong, hadn’t he?

Would he… Would he label Capital as too risky to attempt a rescue for someone… someone like Hongjoong? 

More tears rose to his eyes, breath stalling as he tried to force air into his lungs. 

_Seonghwa would come,_ he screamed inside his mind as he grit his teeth, yanking against the arms holding him. 

Seonghwa would not let him die. 

Seonghwa would come. 

His Seonghwa- 

Someone would come. He wouldn’t let Hongjoong be hurt, he would come for him- 

A knife was suddenly pressing to Hongjoong’s throat, making him freeze, chest heaving and skin feeling clammy. For a moment, neither of them moved, at a standstill. 

“Would you rather die now than go back into the room?” they growled into Hongjoong’s ear, silent as he shook in their grip, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the top layers of skin be cut through. 

They walked with him, the knife remaining pressed to his skin, and Hongjoong tried to build the strength to struggle under the blade. 

He was so fucking scared. 

He didn’t know what to do, where he was, who was coming- 

Seonghwa would come. 

He grabbed onto the thought as tight as the fist in his hair, refusing to let it slip away. 

Sometimes… faith was all you had. 

_Seonghwa would come._

Hongjoong kept fighting. 

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa stared across the table they sat at, his heart heavy in his chest. 

His skin was still crawling from those disgusting hands, but it was muted as he stared at Hongjoong who looked… lost. But as if he couldn’t admit it to himself that he was lost. As if he was afraid of appearing out of control. 

Seonghwa could tell that both of them were probably reaching a breaking point. 

Hongjoong was likely wrestling with his own feelings for his Seonghwa that he hadn’t _meant_ to stir up, but it was so painfully _obvious-_

It was so _obvious_ that his Seonghwa meant something _incredible_ to this Hongjoong, and Seonghwa didn’t know why it was so important to him that Hongjoong realize that. 

Well… he did know why. 

Hongjoong’s expression twitched, fingers curling into fists. 

Because Seonghwa wanted Hongjoong to be happy. 

Even this weird version of him… he wanted him to be happy. And if being with his Seonghwa- either romantically or otherwise- would give him that… then Seonghwa wanted that. 

“What would you change?” Seonghwa asked quietly because it had been silent for too long and he was a hopeless romantic. 

He was someone who believed too firmly in happy endings. 

He was someone who couldn’t sit here, looking at Hongjoong’s face- at _anyone’s_ face- and not want them to realize just how _close_ happiness was. If they would just be brave enough to reach out, to risk a little, and grab it. 

If he was just brave for a moment… 

“About what?” Hongjoong asked, with an expression that said he knew exactly what Seonghwa was asking about. “I can’t change anything worth changing.” 

“Hypothetically,” Seonghwa pressed gently, his chest squeezing as Hongjoong continued to stare blankly at the table. He looked like a toy that had run out of battery. “If you could change something about your lives… what would you change? Humor me. Even if it’s a dumb, useless fantasy.” 

But it wasn’t dumb or useless. 

Because sometimes… fantasy was the only thing keeping you going. It was the push that shoved you forward another step, when everything seemed hopeless. 

Why do you think Seonghwa was still in college? Because he dreamed. He came up with outlandish futures that could never be… but it made him realize that, really, anything close to them was good enough. 

(“Anything close” had soon been realized as “with Hongjoong.”) 

This Hongjoong… was so hardened. He was stiff and glaring, eyes sharp with an age his years didn’t reflect. 

But even as he continued to keep that soldier-like stiffness, Seonghwa saw the torment behind his obsidian eyes. 

Hongjoong laughed humorlessly. “Everything,” he admitted bitterly. “There’s not a damn thing in that world worth saving.” 

“Aside from your team.” 

Hongjoong’s fist clenched tightly, his knuckles white as his jaw clenched. 

Seonghwa wet his lips carefully, scooting his chair closer to Hongjoong. “What would you change for them? In a perfect world.” 

It was probably an insult to Hongjoong, that sort of concept, when his own world was dying day by day… 

But Hongjoong swallowed, something in his glassy eyes turning fragile, even as he glared. 

“In a perfect world, I would have never met them, because there would have been no war to begin with. Nothing for me to ask them to fight for.” 

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together tightly as Hongjoong swallowed again, looking vaguely ill. 

“That’s not a perfect world,” Seonghwa murmured knowingly. “Perfect would mean you still have them. They’re family to you, Hongjoong.” 

This, he knew. 

Even as he laughed again, dark and bitter, but something about it almost desperate. For several moments, he was silent, staring off as if imagining every horrific thing he had ever seen… and imagining it _gone._

Never having existed. 

“I would trust them,” he rasped hoarsely, never focusing on Seonghwa. “I would still have them on my team, I would still… I would still trust them with my life… but I would trust him in a different way.” 

Seonghwa didn’t miss the change in pronouns. 

Hongjoong was a million miles inside his head, eyes staring off at nothing, speaking like an oracle into the void of his mind. 

“I would trust him without the world on the line, without risking our lives… I would still want him at my side. I would still rely on him day after day, but I wouldn’t have to fear for us.” Hongjoong’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “I cannot… imagine a world without them. Even without a war, I’d never be strong enough- I’d want him to stay at my side… but without risking our lives just for one more day…” 

For a split moment, Hongjoong’s expression wavered, like something was cracking, but it was shoved back into a terse, haunted glare. 

And Seonghwa… sat in agonizing pain… wondering if Hongjoong even realized that what he just described were _friends._

Not war buddies. Not soldiers. Not tactical teammates. 

Just regular friends. Who could trust each other, but were safe. 

Hongjoong wanted nothing more… than to be able to be with the people be loved… and be safe. 

Seonghwa’s chest cracked a little farther as Hongjoong continued to stare, as if he wasn’t even sure Seonghwa was still there. As if he were already back in his own world. 

After a few moments too long, Seonghwa reached out, his hand brushing Hongjoong’s that was drawn in a tight fist against his own imagination. 

Hongjoong jerked away, eyes snapping back to reality, staring wide eyed, sharp and dangerous- 

Seonghwa tried to smile gently, supportingly… comfortingly. 

It probably looked pitiful, though. Hongjoong stared him, directly in his eyes, for probably longer than he had ever looked at Seonghwa before. 

He wondered if he realized which Seonghwa it was… 

Hongjoong swallowed. 

“I hope…” Seonghwa’s voice nearly failed, but he smiled tighter. “I hope… with _all my heart…”_ He whispered, “that you’re able to have that one day. That you can keep the people you love safe, without having to worry about the next day.” 

Hongjoong’s expression didn’t change, and he did not glance away, as if staring at Seonghwa might give him answers to a question. 

His hand slowly rested against the table, stiff and quiet. 

“The people… I love…” 

~~~~~~~~

The jeep roared across the smouldering ash and gravel, all of them with their brims pulled low and their masks high on their faces to block the poisonous air slamming into them, burning their eyes. 

Seonghwa held his breath. If he breathed, he might think about something other than his burning lungs. 

He might think about Hongjoong. 

Where he was being taken. 

What they would do- 

He suddenly sucked a breath in, the familiar weight of Wooyoung’s hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing firmly. He glanced at him from the corner of his eye. 

Yunho and Mingi had both remained behind to tend and guard Yeosang, in case more returned. 

In any other instance, they might have remained to work on Yeosang together- who desperately needed that attention- but this was something beyond any emergency they had ever experienced. 

San drove, silent and stoic, even as they nearly overturned with each sharp turn he took, not hesitating, even with his obvious distaste for Hongjoong. Jongho was stoic beside him, not willing to break the heavy silence. 

Wooyoung’s hardened eyes bored into Seonghwa’s. 

“He’s not weak,” the younger said darkly, looking away. His hand gripped Seonghwa tighter. “He’s not a fighter… but he’s not weak. He’s got a chance.” 

It was not a comfort. 

“You see it, too,” Wooyoung murmured, looking at Seonghwa with hooded eyes. “Don’t you? You know he’s not worthless.” 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened as he looked away. “I was never under the illusion he was worthless,” he muttered, voice poisonous. “But I know he will never survive there. He’s too easily frightened. Too breakable.” 

Too helpless. Too far over his head, never having signed up for this life- 

_He never asked for this-_

Had any of them?

“We’re getting him back,” San suddenly snapped from the driver seat, knuckles white on the wheel. “Just so I can beat the shit out of that bastard for being stupid enough to get caught-” 

“Why wouldn’t they take Yeosang?” Jongho muttered, now that the silence had broken. “He was injured.” 

“Why take one of us when you could take down the leader?” Wooyoung posed, voice dripping with anger. “All of us are small fry compared to Hongjoong- at least, who they think is Hongjoong.” 

Seonghwa felt bile rise in the back of his throat. 

Half the men grabbed Hongjoong and ran. The remaining half had lost against a single person of their team, struggling under blood loss and excruciating pain. 

He had to remember that Capital was worthless. 

Against them, maybe. But Hongjoong?

“We move quickly,” he said, voice too hoarse, too weak-

He couldn’t afford to be _weak-_

The car hadn’t even slowed before Seonghwa was leaping out the side. 

He was responsible for standing in Hongjoong’s place, he couldn’t be weak, he needed to be strong- 

Seonghwa ran. 

His legs felt numb from sitting the jeep- no more than half an hour with how San had driven, but he still nearly stumbled. They couldn’t be more than five or ten minutes behind Capital’s goons. 

But was that already too long? 

Seonghwa’s legs were unsteady. 

That wasn’t necessarily having anything to do with the jeep ride. More to do with the utter terror in Seonghwa’s veins. 

It’s not him, his mind all but tried to whisper. 

_Save him._

_Don’t let them take him back-_

_I can’t lose him again-_

He isn’t yours to lose- 

_I can’t lose him-_

It’s not him- 

_Don’t let him go back, you promised you’d never let him go back-_

The roaring thoughts flew in time with the beating of his boots against dirt. 

They split up as they reached the very back opening to Capital’s underground entrance- Jongho not hesitating to slide a knife across the guard’s neck. 

Distantly, they could hear the aboveground city chattering with activity as they entered. That wasn’t their goal today. Today, they went under. Into the sort of place Capital only put people like them. 

Mingi and Yunho had remained at the base to look after and guard Yeosang. 

San and Jongho ran off down the opposite fork in the hallway. 

Seonghwa was never meant to be leader. He couldn’t lead. 

Wooyoung kept up with him for several hallways, but Seonghwa wasn’t looking at him. He should be communicating, he should be ordering Wooyoung other places to search, he should be stopping and _thinking-_

He couldn’t let him go back, he had promised, _he swore-_

It’s not him. 

_I can’t see him broken again-_

He’s not going to survive going back in there, he couldn’t lose Hongjoong to that darkness again, he had to protect him- 

It’s not him- 

_It didn’t matter._

Rationale had no place where Hongjoong was concerned. It never did. 

If it did, Seonghwa never would have been strong enough to look into the desperate, lost eyes of a man he respected and trusted and followed and have the strength to pin him down, to strike him, to shake him, to demand that he snap out of it- 

If Seonghwa was _rational,_ he would have been calmer, he would have been better, more useful, less harried- 

But Seonghwa was never rational with Hongjoong. As much as Hongjoong named Seonghwa as his voice of reason, Seonghwa was probably wilder than Hongjoong on his best days. 

If Seonghwa were rational, he would have been able to separate the Hongjoong who was angry and broken from that cursed Room from the leader he had sworn his life and death to. 

But he wasn’t rational. He had looked at his broken leader and he was desperate. Impatient. Terrified. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Hongjoong to that darkness that had taken him. So Seonghwa had done everything he could think of- rough and terrible to Hongjoong in ways he never should have been- 

Hongjoong had been suffering his own worst nightmares and all Seonghwa could think to do was hold him down until he thrashed himself into exhaustion. 

Seonghwa was possibly the most useless member of this team, no matter what Hongjoong praised him for. 

Seonghwa was in a constant war with himself- firm, ramrod orders telling him not to fear, not to doubt- battling against the part of him that whimpered and recoiled in fear at the thought of losing Hongjoong in any way. 

Even… 

Even someone who was him, but wasn’t. 

“Seonghwa!” 

Stupid, _stupid, emotional_ Seonghwa- running as fast as his mortal body could handle, so lost in his own fear that he wasn’t even paying attention to what was in front of him. 

Seonghwa didn’t see the two Capital guards stepping out of a doorway. He simply heard Wooyoung’s warning call and dropped to the ground like a stone. 

Wooyoung threw a blade that struck one in the throat, leaping over Seonghwa to duck the second one’s blow and stab through his stomach with his sword, shoving him off and turning back to Seonghwa, eyes fiery. 

Wooyoung had every right to scold and lecture him. He simply grabbed Seonghwa by the wrist and hauled him up roughly. 

“We’ll find him,” Wooyoung promised uselessly, both of them already running. 

“There’s only one place they would ever take him,” Seonghwa spat hoarsely, heart palpitating as his muscles burned. 

“Unless they’re looking to question him first,” Wooyoung said firmly. “We have to entertain other options-” 

“San and Jongho are already going for the East quarters,” he snapped. “If they are questioning him, he’s at least alive. If they decide to put him in that _Room-_ ” 

Seonghwa… did not anticipate how his voice would break. Now it would cut off weakly, so _pathetic-_

And he wanted to shove his sword through his own useless heart as Wooyoung glanced back, dark eyes turning grey in questioning concern. 

Seonghwa could not be weak. 

Not for Hongjoong. 

“I’m going to the Black Room first,” Seonghwa snapped, his voice too weak despite the anger flooding it. “I won’t let them put him back there.” 

“He’s never been there before, Seonghwa,” Wooyoung reminded him sharply. “This isn’t Hongj-” 

“Does it _matter?”_ Seonghwa snapped, turning sharp eyes on Wooyoung, everything so unbalanced within him, he felt like he might vomit. He needed to calm down. He couldn’t. “What do you think it will do to him-” 

“We’re going to get him back- you don’t have to remind me that no one wants to be in that fucking Room,” Wooyoung said, voice tinged bitter. 

Seonghwa wanted to swallow his tongue. 

Seonghwa should apologize. Should tell Wooyoung that he wasn’t himself. Should get a hold of himself and start acting like he _knew_ he should- 

He couldn’t let him go back there. 

He couldn’t see those eyes in Hongjoong again- Whether they were his Hongjoong or not, he couldn’t bear to see those tired, broken, pleading eyes that Seonghwa had been useless to heal. 

He couldn’t let Hongjoong go back to that. 

He couldn’t let Hongjoong experience that _at all_. 

He had failed his Hongjoong. 

He had let him be taken, be tortured, for _days_ before they ever found him- Seonghwa had failed to protect him, and he had failed to heal him. 

He couldn’t let himself make the same mistake twice. 

He couldn’t fail Hongjoong twice. 

This was nothing more than age-old guilt trying to find some broken coping mechanism to gain closure from. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to broaden his myopic thoughts. He couldn’t look at the bigger picture, he couldn’t do anything but imagine Hongjoong- _this_ Hongjoong, who was small and innocent- in those chains, in that _Room_ , swallowed by darkness, tormented by nothing but silence and his own mind wringing itself dry- 

Seonghwa’s stomach flipped sickeningly. 

This Hongjoong… was not weak. Perhaps he was not strong, nor competent in the ways that mattered…. But no one who had those eyes that Seonghwa had seen throughout his life, fiery and determined and angry, could ever be seen as weak in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

He wasn’t a coward either. 

Perhaps he was not brave, perhaps he was shaking and crying the whole time… but he stood his ground where it mattered. Against the people who mocked him, against people who threatened these people who were not his friends, but that he defended as if they were- 

He had tried to defend Yeosang. 

Only a knife, no will to kill someone, no desire to fight- but for Yeosang, he had thrown himself at an enemy larger, stronger, and more powerful than himself. 

Stupid. 

In all the ways Hongjoong was supposed to be. 

Seonghwa had seen different sides of this Hongjoong that he had never seen of his own. A side that was wistful and longing, one that was optimistic, one that tried to smile, one that found comfort in warmth from someone with Seonghwa’s face- 

One... that sought comfort from Seonghwa… in a way that Seonghwa had never had to provide for anyone. 

And it was the strangest thing… to hold Hongjoong like that. Not his Hongjoong, but Hongjoong all the same… 

A Hongjoong that looked at them and called them family- a word they could never let themselves utter. Who said they loved each other, who loved- 

Seonghwa ducked a knife that came flying from the side. 

Who loved his own Seonghwa. 

He drove his sword into the man’s ribs, even as six others ran into the hall, shouting for them to halt. 

Who loved his own Seonghwa for his support, his kindness, his unerring faith- 

Seonghwa was suddenly shoved out of the crowd of soldiers, whipping around with wide eyes- 

Traits that he was sure Hongjoong saw in him. In this version of his Seonghwa. 

“Go!” Wooyoung yelled, voice echoing in the metal hall as he kicked a man back- the entire crowd of men between them. “If they’re taking him there, we don’t have time- Just _go_!” 

Seonghwa sliced the throat of one man who turned away from the pack and ran at him, letting his body drop as he stumbled back, still staring blankly. 

Wooyoung dropped his sword, grabbing two knives from his belt and attacking the remaining five- not letting any of them turn their attention to Seonghwa. 

If Seonghwa… were a good leader… If he were smarter, more reliable- 

If he were _Hongjoong,_ he would think of a miracle. A way to fight them all quickly. A way to drag Wooyoung along. 

He would not be slowly backing away- hesitating, still using up precious time Wooyoung was trying to give- 

“ _Go! Now!”_ Wooyoung ordered, loud and sharp enough that Seonghwa flinched back, unable to even glance at the fight as he sprinted down the hall, listening to the men yell for Wooyoung to stand down. 

If Seonghwa was better- was _anything-_ he wouldn’t be leaving his teammate in a five on one fight. 

But things… things were always different when it came to Hongjoong. 

Everyone knew that. 

Trust. He had to trust that Wooyoung would handle it. 

So Seonghwa ran, guilt and fear clawing at his heart. No alarm blared, so no guards had been given a chance to sound the alarm at their arrival. 

But Seonghwa didn’t even know if they were taking this Hongjoong to the Black Room. He didn’t know _where_ he was- he just knew that they couldn’t have killed him yet. If they were going to just kill him, they would have left him dead beside Yeosang. 

No, Capital always had to gloat. To savor. 

They didn’t want Hongjoong dead, they wanted him ruined beyond repair. They thought they had succeeded the first time they locked him in that room- 

They almost had. 

So, _terrifyingly_ close… to breaking the one person Seonghwa would never be able to bear to see break. 

Seonghwa rounded a corner, heart slowly rising to his throat as he realized he was in this fight alone. 

The others were off searching and keeping their presence unknown- and Seonghwa was nothing more than a panicking, useless mess that couldn’t even see beyond his own selfish fear. 

He should have been better. 

For Hongjoong, for his team, for himself- he should have been better. But it was too late now. 

Now, there was only one option: get Hongjoong back. 

Don’t let them break him. 

He couldn’t see him break. 

He couldn’t live knowing that he had failed Hongjoong- _any Hongjoong-_ again. 

Maybe if they had more time, Seonghwa might stop conflating the two. Maybe he would realize that he owed this Hongjoong nothing- 

No. 

No, he owed him something. 

He owed him the return to his own world. To his own Seonghwa. 

If this Hongjoong had been able to set aside fear and distrust, to claw through hell to return home to his friends, to his Seonghwa, to pledge that he would try and help get their Hongjoong back- 

If losing his own Hongjoong was unthinkable… there was another Seonghwa who couldn’t lose his Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa owed him this. At the very least. He owed Hongjoong to save him from a fate that Seonghwa would not wish on anyone but the darkest of Capital. 

What would Seonghwa do? What would if feel like, if he were the other Seonghwa- getting his Hongjoong back, broken and twisted and only knowing that there was something wrong and he had to fight it always and forever- 

What would it do to him? To see Hongjoong like that for the first time again? 

If nothing else… Seonghwa owed it to himself. 

A him that had decided Hongjoong was worth it, that Hongjoong was special in ways that no one else could ever be- 

A single soldier turned a corner, and Seonghwa snapped his neck before he ever saw him, recognizing how the air chilled the further beneath ground he went. 

He was almost there. 

Which meant that Hongjoong was most certainly inside already- 

No. No, he couldn’t let him. He couldn’t let that happen to him, not again- 

_He wouldn’t fail him again._

_He wouldn’t fail him for the first time._

~~~~~~~

The people… he _loved._

People in this world threw the word around so easily, so casually… never a thought spared for having that exploited. 

Seonghwa had his love exploited daily- for each action that he performed with his Hongjoong, he risked the wrong person seeing, having that love exploited- 

The boy in the courtyard. 

That boy at the party. 

Daily, Seonghwa faced his own battles, facing the decision again and again: did he take the easy road, the one that kept them both safe, the one that meant they wouldn’t be hurt… 

And every time, he chose to remain with his Hongjoong. 

(He didn’t know why he was still thinking about it.) 

Maybe… maybe they did know something of loyalty. 

Maybe they did see their own battles. Not with swords and knives… but of willpower. Of how much they could take before they would break… 

Of how much they could love each other… and decide that it was worth it. 

Hongjoong was a coward. 

He had always known this. 

He had bravado and skill to cover it, but for every demand that he gave his team not to doubt, not to fear- his own mind was swarming with a thousand thoughts of losing them. 

The moment he had heard of Seonghwa being taken to that Room… Hongjoong had nearly broken. 

Nothing- not even his own time in that Room- had ever made his heart slowly die like muscle losing blood flow, useless and irreparable. 

Torn and terrified, barely even stable himself, he had nearly abandoned hope, and fear had clouded his every muscle. 

They had taken Seonghwa. 

Taken him somewhere that Hongjoong could never remember, but knew was hell. A hell that didn’t burn. 

A cold, empty, echoing hell. And that was worse. They took him to the one place Hongjoong couldn’t go back to. 

The thought of losing him had nearly finished what that Black Room had started. 

_“Hongjoong, are you even listening? They’re taking him there- We have to fucking move!”_

_Hongjoong had stood in burning ash and couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Selfishly, he stood there, paralyzed at the prospect of not having Seonghwa at his side-_

_For the first time in their time knowing each other, one of them struck Hongjoong. And none too lightly._

_San had been dragged away by Yunho, but Wooyoung took his place with eyes blazing._

_“Are you going to fucking leave him there?” Wooyoung had accused, too angry and_ betrayed- 

_That._

_The sight of them doubting- of them believing for a moment that Hongjoong would allow one of them to be taken and not fought for, that he might not risk his own life and sanity for the sake of them-_

_That was what made Hongjoong breathe._

_He would throw away what remained of his sanity willingly before letting them believe he would abandon them before his last breath._

_Hongjoong finally moved with the purpose of someone fighting against quicksand that tried to swallow them._

_Fear had no place here. Fear made you hesitate._

_A moment in that Room was already a moment too long._

He felt another gentle touch on his arm, snapping him from the thought. 

Seonghwa merely stared at him calmly, not making demands or comments… Simply sitting, as if standing guard to ensure Hongjoong did not float too far into his head. 

Hongjoong felt the wind knock from him, not even able to draw his hand away- Seonghwa’s hand still resting on his fist- 

Once again… the lines blurred. Between this Seonghwa and his. Between what he could realistically have… and what would always be forbidden. 

“I can’t love him.” 

Seonghwa started slightly, as if he hadn’t expected Hongjoong to say anything. He stared at Hongjoong, quietly confused, waiting for him to go on. Hongjoong didn’t even know what he was saying. 

But he had been waiting to say it for a while now. 

This Seonghwa and this Hongjoong… trusted each other. Fought for each other. Supported each other…. 

Loved each other. 

It was a checklist of attributes that Hongjoong knew he felt towards his own Seonghwa. All lining up perfectly, save for the last one. 

He did not love Seonghwa. 

But with each imagination of a world that wasn’t burning… with each image of his team (it wasn’t his team, it was _this_ version of them, but it stained his memory all the same) smiling and carefree… 

All of them, able to make their own choices without blood on their hands. The ability to feel joy and laughter… and love… and not be fearful of it being taken away. Of it being used against you. 

Of losing the person who gave it all to you… and feeling like the world could finish burning because it had already ended. 

Losing Seonghwa was unbearable. Those months and years of drawing him back from the Black Room had made that quite clear to Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong was loyal to his Seonghwa, he trusted him, he fought for him, he risked everything for him willingly… 

And in a different world… a perfect one… it might be so easy to love him. 

“Why?” Seonghwa prompted, so fucking _gentle_ when Hongjoong was quiet for too long. “Why can’t you love him?” he whispered, pained. 

Hongjoong could see how Seonghwa ached on his behalf. How much he wanted to ease the mind of a Hongjoong that wasn’t even his. 

Hongjoong felt the lines blur. 

“Because I cannot lose him,” he found himself whispering, something hollow in his chest, dark and cold like that Room. “I cannot lose him. If I lost him, I would…” 

Hongjoong had never known what he would do. Because it always seemed like after that… there was nothing left. 

He would have his team, their trust, and Hongjoong couldn’t imagine leaving them behind, but… 

Looking at a point after losing Seonghwa… he saw nothing. 

“I cannot let them take him away.” 

Seonghwa didn’t look to be breathing, simply staring at Hongjoong, something almost pleading there. Begging. 

Hongjoong’s stomach turned. He felt like he had been turned to stone. Something cold and lifeless. 

“Hongjoong,” he whispered hoarsely, moving closer. The movement shifted their hands that still rested on one another. “Do you think… that it would hurt any less to lose him now… than if you found out you did love him?” 

The thought of losing Seonghwa in any way, at any time, was unthinkable. He swallowed the bile in the back of his throat. 

“I have nearly lost him… too many times,” he murmured hoarsely, blood going cold. “I… I cannot. I cannot lose him-” 

That was all he knew, at times. 

Seonghwa squeezed his hand tightly, and that only tightened the grip fear took on Hongjoong’s lungs, making it near impossible to draw breath through the cage his ribs had formed. 

He suddenly realized that he might have already lost Seonghwa in a completely different way. 

It floored him, his world flipping for a moment. 

Seonghwa could be alive and well and living a life free of danger, surrounded by people who would give their lives for him, but would never need to- 

And Hongjoong… would be here. 

In _this_ safe world… taking the place of another… surrounded by people with their own lives that he would never understand… 

And the likelihood of ever returning to Seonghwa… to his team… was basically null. 

A once-in-a-lifetime, freak of nature event had put Hongjoong here. And the chance of such an event occurring again… 

Until this point, Hongjoong had seen this world as nothing more than a box he would smash his way out of. An annoyance. A barrier. 

It wasn’t until this moment that it hit Hongjoong like a hilt to the back of his head… that this may be his reality now. 

This team that would never see him as one of their own. 

And this Seonghwa who loved another. 

With Hongjoong’s own team continuing to fight… and him not knowing what was happening to them, being unable to help them in any, unable to ensure their safety, like he promised- 

With Seonghwa… never knowing what happened to him. 

Potentially… with this other version of Hongjoong among them… never able to get back to this world, either. 

It didn’t strike him. It didn’t slap him. It didn’t wind him. 

It settled on him like a boulder slowly placed on his shoulders, slowly crushing the air from him, giving the illusion that it wasn’t so bad until it increased so slowly, he didn’t even realize when he had stopped breathing. 

That Black Room inside his heart got bigger. 

When Seonghwa’s hand cupped Hongjoong’s cheek, it made him startle, but not jerk away, eyes snapping over, wide and haunted- 

He had already lost his team. His Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s heartbroken expression held his attention until his thumb brushed beneath Hongjoong’s eyes gently, coming away damp. 

Hongjoong’s hands leapt to his eyes, scrubbing at them harshly at the realization that there were tears there, his hands practically clawing at the dampness, the urge to snarl viciously in his throat- 

Seonghwa’s hands caught Hongjoong’s, pulling them away gently. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he almost begged in a hoarse whisper, holding his hands still gently. 

Why shouldn’t he? 

Everything had already hurt him too much for it to matter. 

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa’s heart raced with cold blood, each pulse seeming like a second ticking that Hongjoong was chained and beaten, losing himself, losing himself to life he never asked for- 

He never asked for… 

Hongjoong… never asked for this. 

He never signed up for these risks, these horrors- he hadn’t pledged his life to any of them. He was merely an innocent bystander, caught in a hell that he hadn’t even been aware of, subjected to violence he had never been exposed to. 

Because despite their lives… they still had sight of those who were innocent and those who were not. 

Hongjoong… _This_ Hongjoong… was innocent. Not even an uprising to put on his list of crimes. 

He had done nothing but appear, suffer, struggle to be worth something, and then grabbed from them without any idea who had taken him or what they were capable of- 

He must be afraid. 

The thought twisted Seonghwa’s stomach, like that first image of staring down on Hongjoong as he cowered away from Seonghwa, begging- 

Capital would likely show their distaste for that much more violently than Seonghwa had. 

It made his legs pump faster as he practically slammed into a wall to stop his momentum before flying down the next corridor. 

He was almost there- the air was getting sour, the halls echoed louder, the hairs on his skin stood up as he recognized the hall they had dragged him down, even as he had tried to fight with a head wound that left him immobile. 

Even the sight of this hall made his body scream to turn away, don’t go back, don’t make me go back there- 

He couldn’t let them take him. 

_He didn’t want to go back-_

Seonghwa had gotten quite good at ignoring fear for himself. And even as his hands began to shake, he ran strong. 

If Hongjoong wasn’t in there- 

Seonghwa might faint with relief, but then it begged the question of where he had gone- 

He couldn’t see him broken again- 

_Don’t let them break him again-_

Seonghwa tore open a door, revealing a long hall with flickering lights. 

“ _Stop! Stop- Let me go- No!”_

Seonghwa froze. 

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Seonghwa- he froze. 

Froze at the sight of two men holding onto Hongjoong’s arms- the door to the Black Room open and waiting like an inkwell of darkness, waiting to stain and pierce- and Hongjoong thrashing and struggling desperately, his feet scrambling on the floor as his head whipped back and forth viciously- 

The kind of desperation that not even Seonghwa and the team had brought out. The kind that didn’t care about pain or beatings- it only cared about getting away, _surviving-_

He saw the blood and bruises on Hongjoong’s skin- evidence of their response to his struggling- 

He also heard the crippling, terrifying fear in his voice and the way sobs made his words shake. 

But still, he fought. 

And _still,_ Seonghwa stood by _useless._

Until the man on the left struck Hongjoong across the head, Hongjoong crying out in pain, but never stopping his fight, still thrashing, even as fresh blood appeared from the cut on his cheek. 

He was still fighting. 

Seonghwa broke into a sprint, blood stalled. 

There was no roaring of his pulse in his ear. No pounding of his feet on the metal. 

Things went eerily silent to his ears. Startlingly hollow as the two men looked up, hearing him. 

He didn’t yell or curse them. 

But he was far from calm as he drove his knife into the first man’s neck before he had even reached for his own weapon. He tore it out, ignoring the blood as the other man kept one hand on Hongjoong, jerking him around as he lunged at Seonghwa with hate in his eyes- 

Seonghwa dodged the swipe, seeing how Hongjoong’s face crunched in pain, the bruises along his arms, the streaks of tears that cut through the small smears of blood- 

Seonghwa drove the knife upward as the man managed to slice his arm shallowly. It was a pointless wound as Seonghwa’s blade pierced through his chest bone and tore upwards, ripping it back out. 

The man made some sort of death cry, but Seonghwa was already shoving him away. 

Without the man’s grip, Hongjoong collapsed, knees giving out suddenly with a broken cry- 

Seonghwa caught him. 

Caught him and drew him in tighter than Seonghwa had ever held another human being, his body suddenly switching back on as his blood pumped furiously, his pulse erratic as he panted into Hongjoong’s hair, chest heaving and mind spinning from the exertion of running and fighting- 

Hongjoong was clinging to him. Weak, with how hard he was sobbing, but his fists curled in Seonghwa’s coat, his face buried in the dirty fabric as he sobbed more freely than Seonghwa had ever seen. 

He did not attempt to quiet himself. Nor did he attempt to speak, as if everything he could possibly think to say was already communicated in the frantic cries that echoed in the hall

Hongjoong wheezed, sobs making his breath come short and quick as he pressed closer to Seonghwa, as if he could sense someone coming to take him away- 

Seonghwa held him tightly, the scent of blood and metal halls making his stomach turn violently. 

He didn’t let go, though. 

He held him almost desperately, fingers digging into thick coat, blood coursing- 

He had him. 

_He was safe-_

“I’m sorry,” he rasped into Hongjoong’s hair over his cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I was almost too late-” 

His throat burned at the thought that he had been moments later. 

It felt like being transported back in time. To a universe where he had been in time to snatch Hongjoong away from the black doorway. A universe where it hadn’t claimed him. 

A universe where Seonghwa hadn’t failed him. 

One where he had, for once, been good enough. 

He crushed Hongjoong in his grip, the other merely taking every embrace and pushing closer, choking on his sobs, fingers almost scrambling on Seonghwa’s jacket- 

“You’re safe,” he breathed hoarsely, throat closing up as Hongjoong pressed against him, seeking that same comfort that Seonghwa didn’t know how he was providing. “You’re safe, I’m sorry-” 

“I-” 

Hongjoong choked, ducking his head, fingers digging into Seonghwa’s chest, nodding frantically, showing that he understood.

Seonghwa never knew what it was to be protective of someone so helpless. Someone so wholly unable to defend themselves. 

But he wrapped around Hongjoong, knowing that it was foolish to remain here, with two cooling bodies, while the others were likely fighting, but his arms just curled around Hongjoong tighter. 

He was safe. 

He was fast enough, this time. 

Hongjoong took several deep breaths, trying to calm down, nearly in Seonghwa’s lap as his body shook violently. 

How frightened had he been? Had he thought they would leave him to suffer his fate?

Seonghwa’s hands, too, were trembling where they pulled Hongjoong closer- not a comfort as much as a need to feel him, to know that he hadn’t been too late- 

Hongjoong took a final deep breath, holding it for a moment as his cries cut off, nothing but shaking breaths that made his body tremble. 

Hongjoong let go of a slow breath, nails digging into Seonghwa’s chest. 

“I knew you would come.”

It was hoarse and torn, his voice shot to hell, but they pierced through Seonghwa’s chest like an unexpected blade from behind, nearly making him choke. 

He froze, staring at the top of Hongjoong’s head, seeing how he squeezed his eyes shut painfully tight. 

“I knew you would come,” he whispered desperately, nearly breaking down again. “I- I knew-” He choked off. 

He… knew that Seonghwa would come… He trusted him to save him? 

He- a stranger, an enemy, the wrong Seonghwa, someone who had hurt him and scorned him… 

Hongjoong trusted… that he would come?

Hongjoong half-sobbed, shaking his head. “I was so fucking scared,” he hissed weakly, burying his head in Seonghwa’s shoulder, fingers shaking where they held onto him. “I was so- I thought- they- they were gonna-” 

“Don’t,” Seonghwa said quietly, tucking his head beneath his chin. Seonghwa remembered a similar action that his parents had performed, way back in the past when he still had them. “I’m sorry, I should have been faster-” 

Hongjoong shook his head quickly. “No, no, you were in time- I knew you would come, I still knew you would c-come-” 

He breathed heavily, but there was no hesitation in his voice. Why was there no hesitation? No doubt? 

Seonghwa clenched his eyes shut against the way his chest tightened. “ _Why?”_ he whispered. “Why did you trust that I would come?” 

What reason had he given Hongjoong to trust him? They had nothing but a ceasefire- not even a truce- with Hongjoong being ridiculed and rejected at every turn- 

“Because you hadn’t given me a reason to doubt you,” he whispered weakly, wiping his tears on Seonghwa’s chest, his entire frame shaking within Seonghwa’s grasp. “You hadn’t let me die yet…” 

Seonghwa’s throat burned with the urge to vomit. 

“And… You’re Seonghwa,” he breathed. “I don’t think I know how not to trust you.” 

It made Seonghwa want to laugh. To curse. To run. 

The sort of trust that crossed logic and universes and reason… 

“You aren’t my Hongjoong,” Seonghwa rasped roughly, Hongjoong somehow pressing impossibly closer, seeking a comfort that Seonghwa wasn’t even aware he might be providing. “But the thought of allowing anyone to suffer that Room…” 

He didn’t want to say it. 

He didn’t want to even think about that stupid, cursed room that existed only a few feet behind them. 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly, his lips trembling. “I… I thought I was gonna die,” he cried quietly, nearly beginning his tears again as he ducked his head. He breathed shakily against Seonghwa’s chest. “I- I trusted you, but I thought- I thought-” 

He sucked in a weak breath. 

He trusted… but he also feared. Seonghwa hadn’t quite believed that fear and trust could coexist- one must always kill the other. 

But Hongjoong had thought he would die, and he had been terrified. But he trusted Seonghwa. He feared death, not Seonghwa’s absence. 

Seonghwa was immune to death. It followed them like their shadows- both brought to them and from them. 

The thought of dying did not frighten him. Only the death of his team. 

Hongjoong was afraid to die. To die in a foreign land that he didn’t want to be in, under the hold of people he didn’t sign up to fight. 

He was nothing but an innocent, caught in the web _they_ had built by their own choice. 

Seonghwa refused to call the racing pulse he felt through Hongjoong’s skin a comfort. The way he breathed shakily- but he was breathing. They way he spoke, sobs and cries, but coherent and rational- 

All proof that Seonghwa was not too late. 

He had not failed him again. 

Nor for a first time. 

He tucked Hongjoong closer, the other complying willingly, still trying to gain control of himself, but Seonghwa merely wrapped around him tighter, feeling how much smaller he really was, how breakable. 

It was stupid. 

Seonghwa had never been protective of someone outside of his team. And while this was Hongjoong, he was not his team. 

But he was so defenseless, despite his fire and determination- those attributes could only get you so far. 

He had been afraid. 

He had been fearful of dying, yet he still believed that Seonghwa would come to him. 

He trusted that Seonghwa would save him. 

Seonghwa’s breath stalled sickeningly in his chest. 

He hadn’t failed. 

He was fast enough, this time. 

The thought choked him with relief- a sensation that Seonghwa had not had the luxury of feeling in months. 

Hongjoong whispered a shaky ‘thank you’ that shot through Seonghwa more deadly than any knife or sword had ever threatened him. 

~~~~~~~

Seonghwa saw the tears gather in Hongjoong’s eyes… 

And somehow, miraculously, even through the tears that were heartbreaking, the glass of Hongjoong’s eyes never shattered. 

They were not desperate tears. They were quiet. Like an afterthought. Not overtaking his face, nor spilling freely from his eyes. 

Like the gentle flow of something overwhelming finally finding an exit from his sharp obsidian. 

Stiff, angry hands scrubbed at them when Hongjoong noticed, and now, Seonghwa was holding his hands while Hongjoong looked as if the tears were burning his skin like acid. 

Weakness. He hated weakness. And Seonghwa already knew that nothing he said would convince Hongjoong those tears were not a weakness. 

Well, this was the time and place where he _could be_ weak. Where he could cry and not have someone take advantage. Where he could confess… and do no damage. 

“Do you know…” Seonghwa wet his lips as he stared at Hongjoong’s damp eyes. “Do you think I would take advantage of you, Hongjoong?” he whispered. 

Hongjoong choke out a bitter laugh. “As if you could,” he muttered, like a wicked knife with a dull blade. 

It still felt like something piteous… living in a world that turned you into someone who needed to hate and claw and bite, just to survive… 

Seeing it on anyone… Anyone who walked into a room and immediately felt like they were in danger. 

“Then, do you believe you’re safe here?” Seonghwa asked gently, his thumbs rubbing unconsciously over Hongjoong’s hands. 

Both of their sleeves had slipped down, showing off a chain, an infinity sign, and an anchor at their wrists. 

Seonghwa held his breath as Hongjoong stared at the black ink. 

“Do you think… that I would do anything to hurt you?” he clarified when Hongjoong continued to stare, lips pressing together tightly, as if physically restraining himself from speaking. “Separate from your own Seonghwa… do you trust that I won’t hurt you, regardless of what you did?”

Hongjoong had threatened, attacked, mocked, and dismissed Seonghwa and each of his friends- he had better fucking believe that nothing would make Seonghwa break. 

But he needed to hear that from Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong, who was still searching his face for some sort of answer, signal, sign- _something._

He didn’t want Hongjoong’s trust because he was Seonghwa. He wanted it because Seonghwa had proven himself. 

At length, Hongjoong’s eyes refocused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as something in his expression hardened. 

As if becoming reassured. 

“I don’t think you would hurt me… even if you wanted to,” he confessed quietly, but his voice firm with resolve. No hesitation. 

“I wouldn’t,” Seonghwa assured him gently, the silence of the house settling around them. He squeezed Hongjoong’s hand, the movement bringing their tattoos closer. “So, I want you to understand that anything you do… I would never take advantage of,” he murmured firmly. “I would never exploit it, I would never attempt to use it against you or lord it over you-” 

“ I know,” Hongjoong broke in, once again, firm and nothing was more of a comfort to Seonghwa. 

He sounded scared. But still so angry. 

“So you can be _weak,_ ” he whispered desperately. “You can be weak, Hongjoong, whether that means crying or… or admitting something you’d otherwise be afraid of being exploited for. You’re _safe_ here, I would never use it against you- You can do whatever you’d like, Hongjoong. It’s okay here.” 

And, perhaps, only here. 

Even if Hongjoong never admitted what he felt to his Seonghwa… Seonghwa wanted to be sure that Hongjoong understood his own feelings. That he had come to terms with them. 

He wanted him to have a chance to say it, if he did feel it. 

Because leaving this half-formed lump of emotion was only going to hurt him. 

Maybe even damage something between the two of them that was already so pure and beautiful, despite the circumstances under which it was formed. 

“I won’t play pretend,” Hongjoong said firmly, his fingers curling slightly, and Seonghwa was amazed he hadn’t torn his arms away from Seonghwa’s grasp. “I won’t- I won’t do that to him-” 

“I’m not asking you to pretend,” Seonghwa assured him quickly, scooting closer until their knees bumped and they were probably closer than they had ever been since he arrived here. 

Aside from the moments when Hongjoong had tried to attack. 

“I don’t want you to pretend,” he repeated firmly. “I want you to _stop_ pretending. I want you to stop protecting yourself and your heart, and just realize what it is you’re feeling. I want you to admit what you’re feeling. Even if it isn’t love, I want you to acknowledge whatever it is.” 

“ _Why?_ ” Hongjoong hissed, as if Seonghwa had just threatened him, defensive and so obsessed with survival, that even within safety he couldn’t allow himself to bend. “Why would you want me to do that-” 

Maybe it was because Seonghwa was still a little shaken from his earlier situation. But he squeezed Hongjoong’s hand, not wanting to just let him go. 

“Because you’re _safe_ here, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa pressed desperately. “You’re safe, and you can finally talk about what you feel without being afraid of it being used against you. You can admit it and then tuck it back away, but I want you to _know_ what you feel. I want you to have answers-” 

“I _don’t know_ what I feel-” 

“Yes, you do,” Seonghwa whispered hoarsely, staring into sharp eyes that hadn’t cut him in a while now. “You _do,_ Hongjoong, but you’re afraid. You’re afraid, but you _can_ still say it-” 

“I won’t,” he hissed, eyes shining again even as fire burned in them, defensive and dangerous. His hands clenched into fists as he grit his teeth. “I won’t- I won’t do that to myself, I won’t lose him- _I can’t lose him-_ ” 

Seonghwa tugged him forward. 

Hongjoong came easily. 

And when Seonghwa wrapped his arms around Hongjoong’s familiar frame for the second time, he shut his eyes tightly, almost expecting a blow. 

But Hongjoong merely seized against him again, as if building up all his strength to shove Seonghwa away- 

There had only been one point in Seonghwa’s life where he truly believed that he and Hongjoong might lose each other. 

The first summer they were a couple, Hongjoong’s parents had pestered and called everyday, trying to talk Hongjoong into changing his major and schools- to a college closer to home that all their friends’ children had gone to. 

And Hongjoong, in the midst of everything else that came with college and romance… had considered it. If only to just get them off his back, to just stop having his every move questioned… 

He had been crying, and he told Seonghwa one night that he might just do it. And Seonghwa tried to convince him to ignore them, but Hongjoong was so tired of it all. 

Hongjoong, in that moment, had pulled away from Seonghwa, head lowered, as he told Seonghwa he would tell his mom in the morning that he would go to the other college. 

And Seonghwa, though it was hardly the most pressing matter, had stared at Hongjoong, already trying to imagine how miserable he would be without him. 

_“And… what happens to us?”_ he had asked. 

Hongjoong had stared at Seonghwa with bloodshot eyes, and Seonghwa already knew the answer. _“Being so close to home… With everything else changing… I don’t think it would work out.”_

 _“We… We could still keep touch,”_ he had said after warring over being too clingy. _“Long distance for a few years isn’t bad-”_

Hongjoong had left the room, shaking his head and muttering something about needing some space. 

Seonghwa didn’t chase after him, and he didn’t sleep the whole night, trying to think of something or another to say to Hongjoong to convince him to stay- 

That whole time… Seonghwa just wanted Hongjoong to be happy. He knew that art meant everything to Hongjoong, and he knew that if he persued a fucking law degree he was going to be miserable- 

Seonghwa nearly called Hongjoong’s parents himself. But he didn’t. 

But when morning came, and Seonghwa woke up from a sleep he didn’t remember falling into, Hongjoong was pressed against his side, fast asleep with his phone still in his hand. 

He didn’t go. 

He told his parents no, yet again. 

_“Everything I have here… means too much to me. Not just you- art, the frat, my teachers… It means too much for me to leave behind, just to make my parents happy. These things make me happy…. Why should I give it up for them?”_

That was all Seonghwa wanted. His ultimate goal in life. The one thing that was always sure to make his heart implode. 

He just wanted Hongjoong to be happy. 

The Hongjoong in his arms was almost made of stone- cold and stiff. 

“ _Please,”_ Seonghwa begged, his own eyes burning. “Please, just let yourself be _happy_ for once, Hongjoong. You’re safe- just say what’s going to make you happy.” 

Even if it wasn’t that he loved Seonghwa that way. 

Even if it was just acknowledging that Seonghwa was someone special to him, that his team was irreplaceable, that they were family- 

Just _something._

 _Something_ to release the dam he had built out of self-preservation. 

Holding on to his feelings was tormenting Hongjoong- twisting him around as he tried to justify and explain something that _shouldn’t need to be explained._

Seonghwa just wanted him to relax that muscle, to let it stop clenching in fear of a blow. He wanted him to be able to look at his life and know what everyone meant to him. 

He wanted him to be _happy._

Hongjoong’s expression flickered, like a candle casting shadows, like he couldn’t figure out which expression to show. 

It was eerie. Like watching two videos playing over each other- one with the expression of ice and anger, and the other with heartbreak and fear. 

“I owe my Seonghwa… _everything,_ ” Hongjoong whispered hoarsely, his breath warm against Seonghwa’s neck. His tone said that this Seonghwa would never be able to truly understand the extent of his statement. “Everything that I have, that I built, that I was able to protect-” 

Seonghwa squeezed gently, eyes clenching shut tightly. 

_He meant Something._

“He gave me the strength… to do that. To keep living in a world where we only knew how to die.” 

~~~~~~~~

Seonghwa could hear Hongjoong murmuring tired, weak thank yous. Apologies for not being strong enough, apologies for being taken, for not protecting Yeosang- 

Seonghwa felt like he was staring at one scene with one eye, while his other eye witnessed another. 

Seonghwa… Seonghwa no longer knew where one Hongjoong ended and the other began. 

Nor, where his feelings for one began and ended. Where his protectiveness came from and whom it was placed on. Where the fear in his chest began for one and where it started for the other. 

As he held this one in his arms (something he had never done to his own Hongjoong), it was mixed with a familiar fear that he could only remember feeling for his own Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong curled further into Seonghwa, seeking a physical intimacy that his Hongjoong had never attempted to take. Or rather, had never been able to take. Whether by law or by pride, Hongjoong had never tried to be like this with Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa was well aware of the fact that he would do anything for Hongjoong- for anyone on this team. Be that sacrificing his life or providing the sort of comfort he had never needed to before. 

Hongjoong shifted upward, his head resting on Seonghwa’s shoulder. He breathed quietly, finally seeming to get his emotions under some sort of control. 

He expected for Hongjoong to quietly request for Seonghwa to release him, and rather than be faced with that request, Seonghwa began to loosen his grip on Hongjoong. 

It felt like trying to separate two magnets stuck together, Seonghwa having to force his grip on Hongjoong to weaken- 

Hongjoong’s hands, however, redoubled their grip desperately. “Don’t,” he whispered frantically into Seonghwa’s shoulder, all sense of calm disappearing at the prospect of being alone. “Please,” he begged. “Don’t let go-” 

The frightened whispers were enough for Seonghwa to reaffirm his grip without question, like those nights where Hongjoong had quietly begged for Seonghwa to not leave him alone, pride and law forgotten in the wake of nightmares that stained his every thought. 

Seonghwa held him tightly, and for once did not want to let go. 

Fear would not allow him to let go. 

Outside of his arms, this Hongjoong was completely vulnerable. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong breathed, his lips closer to Seonghwa’s ears, allowing him to hear even through the hoarse, nearly inaudible lump in his throat. “Even… Even if I’m the wrong Hongjoong… thank you for coming for me.” 

Seonghwa stared blankly at the stark white color of Hongjoong’s hair, the tips of it stained red from the blood on his cheek… 

A little clear droplet fell from Seonghwa’s eyes, landing in the white strands, soaking into the fibers. 

Seonghwa’s throat closed up. 

Was this betraying his Hongjoong? Saving someone who had replaced him? 

This stupid fear- the ones that always welled, but Seonghwa couldn’t let out- why was it flowing through him without ceasing, why could he not just let this Hongjoong die- 

Why was the thought of death suddenly so terrifying? 

Why did Seonghwa want this person to live? Why did he fear for him-

This man who had everything his Hongjoong had but in every possible way was different and weaker and lesser- 

But vibrant… lively… still seeing the world in such a way that Seonghwa thought impossible… 

Like a Hongjoong that might have been… if they weren’t born to this life. 

“I-” 

He felt the way Hongjoong stiffened, listening. He swallowed the burning in his throat. 

“I don’t know… where you begin… and my Hongjoong ends.” 

He didn’t know what reaction he expected from Hongjoong. Probably for him to pull away and stare in confusion. Maybe to have him question what the hell that meant. 

He didn’t expect for Hongjoong’s arms to suddenly wrap around his waist, embracing Seonghwa firmly with his face burying in Seonghwa’s shoulder that was damp. 

“That’s okay.” 

That’s… okay. 

Seonghwa scoffed, something about the situation so horribly unbelievable. “How is that okay?” he mocked without any sort of ire. 

Hongjoong was quiet for a moment before shrugging quietly. “Emotions are like that,” he murmured thickly. “Sometimes you don’t know what you feel.” 

Seonghwa always knew what he felt. The only question was whether or not he acknowledged it. 

“Do you love him?” 

Seonghwa promptly swallowed his tongue. The quiet, inconspicuous question that was whispered as if it didn’t hold everything they never could. 

Whispered from the lips of someone who was practically spoiled with emotional freedom. 

Seonghwa felt something rushing in his veins- something telling him to shove Hongjoong away, to run, to yell, to defend- 

Defend against what? No one was attacking. 

Before Seonghwa could speak around the stone lodged in his throat, Hongjoong hugged him tighter, transitioning from seeking comfort…to giving it. 

“I hope you do...” Hongjoong whispered painfully, as if he was afraid of Seonghwa’s answer. “You deserve to love someone like that.” 

Deserve to love? 

Life was never about what people deserved. 

Did any of them _deserve_ this? Did a single person on this team deserve to fight for every day they lived? Did they deserve to have their childhoods and adolescences stolen by these monsters who ruined them and then deserted them? 

Did Hongjoong deserve to nearly be broken by these monsters when he had done nothing but save lives and fight for them when no one else would? 

Did Hongjoong deserve to be taken from them? Did Seonghwa deserve to be left with no man to follow and a team suddenly staring at him for answers he couldn’t find? 

It didn’t matter what they deserved. Life gave what it gave, and you got nothing more. 

Hongjoong was crying again- quieter this time, nearly silent, though Seonghwa heard the dampness in his voice. 

“You deserve to love someone like that,” he repeated weakly. “Someone you trust so much- someone who clearly feels a lot for you. Everything he did for you- everything you said he’s done for you… What you did for each other- if you ever got the chance to love, I hope it’s him.” His voice pinched, breaking at the end. 

I hope… it’s him. 

Hongjoong specifically. 

Seonghwa’s tongue loosened even as he stared blankly, feeling nothing but hollow ice in his chest. 

“I do not… and cannot… love him.” 

“ _Why not?_ ” Hongjoong suddenly cried, a fist coming and striking Seonghwa weakly on the chest, startling Seonghwa for a moment. “It’s not _fair- It’s not fair_ that you have to go through this- that you’re fighting for these people and for a cause- it’s not _fair_ that you can’t love someone! It’s not fair that you live in a world where you can’t even _feel_ something-” 

Hongjoong took a broken breath that choked a bit, shaking his head frantically against Seonghwa’s shoulder, hitting his chest weakly again. 

“You deserve to have someone,” he cried weakly, quietly as his voice died. “It’s not fucking _fair-_ You should be able to love someone! You shouldn’t have to be afraid of losing them- _I hate it!_ ”

With a lightning strike, Seonghwa realized that Hongjoong’s tears were not out of fear nor pain nor despair. 

They were for him. 

Hongjoong was crying for him. For the world they were born to. 

He felt anger and outrage… for them. For Seonghwa. 

“You keep saying ‘cannot’,” Hongjoong said suddenly, pulling back with his pale face bruised, but flushed from crying, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. 

Like he could convince Seonghwa to do something. 

“Do you love him?” Hongjoong pressed, his fist still resting against Seonghwa’s chest, and he wondered if he could feel his pulse there. 

No one… No one but Hongjoong would ever have the power to make Seonghwa feel so completely helpless, even though he held all the power. 

No one but Hongjoong could ever make Seonghwa _feel_ so violently. 

“I can’t love him,” he said darkly. “So it doesn’t matter if I do or not.” 

But he didn’t. 

Because he couldn’t. 

“Look at everything you’ve done,” Hongjoong hissed desperately, eyes pleading. 

Why was this so important to him? Why did he care whether or not they were free? 

“You said it yourself,” he hissed desperately, “you can’t stop blurring the lines between us. If you wanted to protect him so badly, if you were so afraid for him, like you just were for me- the answer is clear. If you can’t say an outright ‘no,’ then what _is_ your answer, Seonghwa?” he demanded. “Why can’t you admit it?”

“Because loving him would hurt worse than losing him,” Seonghwa snapped, low and angry, though the fire of rage wouldn’t catch. “Because I _will,_ inevitably, lose him.” 

Hongjoong’s expression cracked, so beautifully ignorant. “You don’t know that-” 

“No one survives this world,” Seonghwa warned him, faced once more with Hongjoong’s ignorance. “We’re living on borrowed time- I won’t put myself in that position.” 

“Do you honestly think you’d feel any different if you lost him now?” Hongjoong demanded. “Everyone dies- in every world! That’s not unique here. It’s not about the end, it’s about everything in between, Seonghwa!”

Why?

Why was Hongjoong so desperate? Why did he need Seonghwa to be vulnerable? Why had this weak creature suddenly decided that Seonghwa must suffer? 

“Hongjoong means something different to you,” Hongjoong breathed quietly, his expression pinching. “You know he does. Everyone else on your team knows it, too.” 

Seonghwa wanted to shove Hongjoong away. His hands were still wrapped around him, though, holding him close. 

They were still so close, despite the words flying back and forth. 

“It’s not _fair,_ ” Hongjoong breathed weakly, more tears gathering in his desperate eyes. “ _It’s not fair, Seonghwa-_ You shouldn’t have to be afraid, you should be able to make your own decision- You should be able to love him-” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can, but you’re scared,” Hongjoong pressed, his fist opening to curl in the lapels of Seonghwa’s coat. “You’re _scared,_ Seonghwa, and you shouldn’t _have_ to be. It’s not _fair-_ ” 

“Nothing is fair,” he hissed. “Not our lives, not our deaths, and most certainly not our emotions.” 

Those were the laws of this land. Ones they had memorized long ago. 

You lived and died for a cause because the cause was all you had. Only the cause and your team. 

Hongjoong stared at him, tears clinging to his eyelashes as he swallowed thickly, as if Seonghwa had broken his heart. 

It was a… startling expression to see on Hongjoong’s face. To hear Hongjoong’s voice urging him. 

Seonghwa was so used to following that voice without question. 

Hongjoong’s lips trembled as he stared at Seonghwa for several moments. The bruises on his face shifted sickeningly. “You’re scared,” he whispered brokenly. “But I wish you could be brave, Seonghwa.” 

_“I should have never let them take you- I’m sorry…. I failed you, Seonghwa.”_

_In those days… Seonghwa had lost his voice. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare, to hum, to ignore…. He never knew why speaking was so horrible, but it burned each time he tried._

_Silence burned, but speaking was impossible. He could do nothing but sit in a hell of silence, only broken when the others decided to uselessly start conversation._

_And Seonghwa was helpless as Hongjoong sat beside him, his head hung low and guilt dripped from his tongue, his knuckles white as he fisted the sheets after an hour’s attempt to coax a word from Seonghwa._

_Seonghwa could only stare. And feel guilt to match Hongjoong’s._

You didn’t, _he wanted to reassure him._ You didn’t fail me, you came for me, you got me back. _Who cared if it was battered and bruised- he was alive._

_Hongjoong threatened to tear the sheets in his grip as he couldn’t even raise his head to Seonghwa. “I’m sorry,” he said again, heavy and weighed down by weeks of silence. Regret was never a good look on Hongjoong._

_Seonghwa wanted to shake him. Even if he couldn’t speak, he wanted to touch Hongjoong- take his hand, squeeze his shoulder- something._

_He could only stare, blank and numb, as if hiding from a killer prowling the room, terrified to even breathe and give away his position._

_You didn’t fail me, you could never fail me-_

_Hongjoong finally glanced up- his expression drawn in tight regret and his eyes bloodshot from no sleep and stress upon stress bearing down on him._

_“I don’t know how to help you, Seonghwa,” he practically pleaded, begging for Seonghwa to guide him. “I don’t know what you need, I don’t know what you saw- I don’t know how to help you like you helped me.”_

He was helping, _he wanted to scream. The silence that Seonghwa carried was horrible. A boulder resting on his shoulders that he was too cowardly to shrug off. Just his presence was a break from his own mind that echoed with endless darkness._

_Every moment Hongjoong was there was a moment Seonghwa wasn’t drowning in the black roads of fear that never went anywhere._

_Seonghwa startled when Hongjoong rested a stiff hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently- the first real contact in weeks._

_It burned. As did Hongjoong’s pained gaze that stung his skin._

_“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “The only thing I can do is hope that you’re brave enough to face yourself… I know it’s impossible… but I hope you can be braver than I was, Seonghwa. I can only hope… because I don’t know how to help you any other way.”_

_The hand fell away, and if Seonghwa were brave, he would have caught it. He wouldn’t have remained silent as the cold began to grow in the contact point._

_Hongjoong had only one request of him: be brave._

Back then, Seonghwa couldn’t be brave. Only silent. 

And now… Seonghwa was staring at pained eyes, begging that he could be brave… 

And he still didn’t think he ever could be. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong felt like his skin was burning. 

He stared at the fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt, his arms around him burning, like he was standing outside- feeling the unrelenting heat blasting against him like it was the wind trying to guide him somewhere- 

He stared. 

And he felt everything. 

Anger, hatred, aching pain, agony, something almost giddy, something haunted and foreboding, something screaming- 

Seonghwa held him. 

The only time… Seonghwa had ever held him like this was when he was pinning him down to keep him from harming himself when his mind could only scream at him to fight. 

This embrace was much lighter. Much gentler. Not intended to restrain, but to comfort. 

Hongjoong had never needed comfort. He needed someone powerful enough to stand against him and force his hand into the proper standing. He needed someone to stand against him, someone strong enough that Hongjoong couldn’t move them if he tried- 

That was what Seonghwa had always been. Someone that Hongjoong could beat again and throw himself against with all the usefulness of a brick wall in his path. 

Someone who could control Hongjoong when he began to lose it himself. 

_But_ God, _what if?_

What if they had been born to this world? One where Seonghwa’s touches hadn’t ever needed to restrain him. One where their hearts raced because they were late, not because their lives’ clocks were ticking down. 

One where Hongjoong might have been able to feel freely. Without being a coward. 

One where… where it might have been easy to think it, much less say it. 

Seonghwa wanted him to say it. To admit it. 

And Hongjoong knew that it could never be. Even if he did by some miracle return to his world, he would never be able to act on his confession. 

But… 

But if this was his chance to confess, to finally say it- his one chance to take advantage of this safety, of this world, and just say it. 

Just once. 

And then setting the feeling on fire, watching it burn away- spoken out once, and then burned because it was now useless. 

Speak it once… and then leave it to die. Get it out, and then move on from it. 

It wasn’t him being weak, it was the logical thing to do. To take advantage of a rare moment of safety to burn all the extra weight you hadn’t had the ability to throw off before. 

Hongjoong’s mouth was dry as his heart raced, one hand crushing Seonghwa’s shirt in his fist as he felt a tremor down his spine. 

What did he feel for his Seonghwa?

Truly, beneath the death and fear and everything… 

What had his trust lead into, unknowingly? What had his faith morphed into, against his will? What had Seonghwa’s loyalty warmed… slowly coaxing to life like a gentle breath against the simmering coals in Hongjoong’s chest?

What was he never brave enough to admit?

What was he so afraid to lose?

_Why was he so afraid to lose his Seonghwa?_

Hongjoong’s stomach rolled, threatening to make him gag as he stared at this Seonghwa’s neck- so different and so alike. 

So alike. In everything from face to action. 

So different… because Hongjoong knew that he did not look at _this_ Seonghwa and feel the hole in his chest grow smaller. 

_Why was he so afraid to lose_ his _Seonghwa?_

Could Hongjoong allow himself to take enough courage from _this_ Seonghwa to admit it?

Here, in safety, where Seonghwa would never know and Capital could never hear?

Trust. 

Their trust had morphed into something else long ago. Likely, only moments after they met. 

He was afraid to lose Seonghwa… 

His Seonghwa. 

Because… 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong lunged forward after too many moments of silence, hugging Seonghwa tightly. 

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t _fair-_

He wanted to scream it. He wanted to burn Capital to the ground and write it in the ashes. 

He wanted to choke on his own tears and beat it into the ground the more he thought about it. 

It was so fucking unfair. 

Why did these people have to face so much? Why did they have to face the fear that had eaten Hongjoong alive for only moments while Capital tried to shove him into a room that had already taken so much? 

Why did they have to suffer so much and get nothing in return? Not even the ability to acknowledge how much they meant to each other?

_It wasn’t fair-_

Seonghwa was stiff beneath him, like an ice statue, and it only made Hongjoong’s already bruised and battered heart ache deeper, something helpless and angry and torn rooting in his chest. 

Nothing was fair- Hongjoong knew that, even in his own world. But it seemed like the cruelest thing in the universe, to put these people together, give them everything they had, have them lean so heavily on one another- 

And then rob them of any benefit that might give them. 

Hongjoong’s head hurt from his tears and the numerous blows the guards had given him. His body ached, and his arms strained with how hard he hugged Seonghwa, but it didn’t matter- 

It wasn’t _fair_. 

It would never be fair. 

He didn’t care what they had done- they deserved so much more than they were allowed. 

Seonghwa’s arms were still around him- loose and simply resting at Hongjoong’s waist. The arms felt nothing like his own Seonghwa’s- they were leaner, and the chest he rested against was firmer. There was no illusion of crying for his own Seonghwa. 

This person. This Seonghwa. This Hongjoong. This team. They deserved so much fucking more. 

_It wasn’t fair-_

“Do you love him?” came the hoarse whisper from above him. 

Hongjoong wiped his tears on Seonghwa’s shoulder, sure that that was the least of their problems. “W-What?” he croaked, his head throbbing with his pulse. 

Seonghwa’s hands twitched at his sides, tightening for a moment before letting go- as if he had done something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Your Seonghwa,” he murmured, deep in his chest that vibrated against Hongjoong’s. “You said you cared for him… that he was special to you… Do you love him?”

Hongjoong couldn’t quite believe that out of everything he had said about his own Seonghwa, that he had ever skipped over the fact that he loved him. 

And the sudden thought of how much he loved him made his heart twist almost enough to render him speechless. He winced. 

Seonghwa’s hands tightened on his waist minisculely. 

Hongjoong nodded quickly, desperate to assure him, trying to find the words stuck in his throat. “With everything that I am,” he confessed in a whisper. “I love him so much- He’s been there for me in ways I never thought anyone would be. He-” He coughed violently, throat burning. “He means... everything to me.” 

He was the one who understood Hongjoong like no one else ever could. He was the one who had never let Hongjoong fall for a moment. 

He was the one who Hongjoong could simply glance at and feel his heart swelling, even on his worst days. 

This Seonghwa deserved to have someone like that. Hongjoong could tell, now, that Hongjoong meant something to Seonghwa that escaped all bounds of speech. 

He wanted him to have this. 

“Say… Say it,” Seonghwa whispered quietly, almost inaudible if not for their proximity. 

Hongjoong felt his heart freeze in his chest. “Say what?” he whispered back, throat closing up. 

He was pretty sure he knew. 

~~~~~~~~

He was afraid because… 

(Hongjoong crushed Seonghwa’s shirt in his fingers, heart stalling as his knees ached from the metal floor.) 

Seonghwa rubbed a gentle hand along Hongjoong’s back, a quiet whisper of “You’re safe,” in his ear making him freeze. 

(Seonghwa swallowed audibly, his hands tightening on Hongjoong. “Say… what you feel for him…”)

Hongjoong was going to vomit. 

(“Just once,” Seonghwa pleaded hoarsely, as if they had only moments left, as if for once in his life, he just wanted to hear someone say it-)

“You’re safe,” Seonghwa repeated, warm and coaxing like a lullaby pulling you to sleep. 

(Hongjoong clenched his eyes shut, the tone making his heart twist. It wasn’t _fair-_ ) 

Hongjoong sucked in a sharp breath, the gentle tone tugging him closer to the edge he was violently struggling to flee from.

(Hongjoong’s mouth tasted like ash as he parted his lips. “I…”)

Hongjoong pressed his face closer to Seonghwa’s neck, as if that might muffle the sounds that he feared anyone hearing. 

(Hongjoong took a shaking breath, fingers crushing Seonghwa’s shirt as he wondered if he had ever heard anyone say it in his life.) 

Hongjoong inhaled shakily, blood cold as his chest finally unlock, like an ancient lock finally giving way. 

(He whispered.)

He could only whisper.

(“I love my Seonghwa.”)

“I love my Seonghwa.” 

  
  


It echoed between universes. 

~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung was the first to reach the house, his phone clutched in his hand with the text from Seonghwa still up, the others running behind him like a herd of cattle as they burst through the front door. 

His heart was in this throat because someone had fucking assaulted Seonghwa- 

Yeosang nearly shoved Wooyoung out of the way when he froze in the doorway of the kitchen. 

Everyone practically stumbled over each other as they crowded the kitchen doorway, breathing heavily (and in San, Mingi, and Yunho’s case- half drunk) as he stared. 

Wooyoung’s heart leapt to his throat at the sight of Seonghwa kneeling on the floor. 

It leapt even higher at the sight of Hongjoong wrapped so tightly in his arms, it looked like neither could breathe, both of sobbing openly, brokenly. 

And it promptly dropped into the pit of his stomach as he saw a familiar flash of white hair between Seonghwa’s arms as the two of them practically clawed at each other desperately to pull each other closer, crying and sobbing- 

That was Hongjoong. 

_Their_ Hongjoong. 

Holy shit, that was Hongjoong-

Where had the other gone? 

As much as Seonghwa was cradling Hongjoong close with Hongjoong’s tiny hands fisting the back of Seonghwa’s shirt, it seemed to slam into all of them simultaneously. 

That was their Hongjoong. 

And while Wooyoung was stunned immobile, Yeosang suddenly burst forward. 

He fell to the ground beside them, wrapping his arms around Hongjoong tightly, burying his face in the back of Hongjoong’s clothing that was identical to that other Hongjoong’s- 

Their Hongjoong. 

Wooyoung broke next, racing forward and shoving himself into the embrace, something almost giddy swelling among his relief and devastation. 

One by one they attacked, until Seonghwa and Hongjoong were wrapped in all of them- a deluge of questions and cries and demands, muffled by clothing and bodies and tears. 

_Hongjoong was back._

It beat against Wooyoung’s skull, not quite sinking in, but he just held on tighter, like he might stop him from leaving again by force of will alone. 

He saw Seonghwa’s tearstained face buried in Hongjoong’s hair, kissing it firmly, eyes clenched shut tightly, like he was terrified to open them. 

If force of will alone would keep Hongjoong here, Seonghwa alone was enough to ensure he never left again. 

~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung winced as the scratch on his leg shifted with each bound, but he kept moving- San and Jongho racing behind him where they had met up after the two had checked the interrogation rooms. 

All three ran towards the Black Room, still without any alarms alerted but they likely only had minutes before someone noticed shit wasn’t right. 

His knife was dripping blood as he ran- San forced to hold his own knife in his left hand with his right hand clutched to his chest with blood dripping down it. 

The icy air burned Wooyoung’s lungs as they turned a corner, his knife flipping around to stab at anyone they saw- 

The party of three froze, their weapons like stones in their hands. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa kneeled before each other, two bodies scattered on either side of them, both of them staring at each other like ghosts floating in their vision. 

Wooyoung’s stomach dropped at the sight of that stupid type of clothing that Hongjoong had worn when he first arrived- 

Hongjoong had been wearing their leader’s clothing, not that fragile shirt. 

And his hair had been stark white and short. 

Not the familiar long, brown strands. 

“Holy hell,” San whispered breathlessly, his weapon dropping from his grasp numbly as they stared. 

_That was their leader._

Relief nearly knocked Wooyoung over as he reached out to steady himself on the wall with a shaking hand. 

Wooyoung nearly balked as Seonghwa reached out, yanking Hongjoong forward into a tight embrace. 

Hongjoong’s arms stiffened for a moment before he returned it firmly. 

The three of them could only stare at the foreign, but understandable sight, Wooyoung’s arm falling to his side as he tried to formulate something to say. 

Hongjoong was back. 

_Their_ Hongjoong- The right Hongjoong, their leader- 

His eyes glanced over the slightly ajar door to the Black Room behind them, his stomach dropping. 

Where had the other Hongjoong gone? 

Had they kept their leader here? Had they switched them? What happened- 

An alarm suddenly blared through the halls, echoing a thousand times over in the confined metal walkways, all of them stiffening. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa broke apart quickly, their bodies tensing in familiar sights of preparation for a fight. 

San cursed, snatching his weapon back up. “We can celebrate later,” he said firmly, earning Seonghwa and Hongoong’s attention. “Right now, we have two minutes to make it back to the jeep.” 

It was almost… startling. 

After days of seeing that other Hongjoong’s eyes- his fire but meekness, his determination but gentleness… 

Seeing the familiar fire burning in these eyes, juxtaposed with those useless, soft clothes...

It felt like breathing after running without their masks outside. 

Seeing their Hongjoong stand- that familiar confidence and power practically rippling off of him, despite how disoriented he must be- and Seonghwa standing as well, looking more sure footed than he had in _days-_

It was like muscle memory to run at Hongjoong’s silent but understood order.

In blind trust, they ran. 

In blind trust… Hongjoong returned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much!!!  
> There’s only one more chapter, and I’m so sad about it all! But thank you all so much, I really can’t even articulate it!  
> This has been an amazing journey, and I’m so grateful to everyone who has come along on it!!  
> Have an amazing day, and please let me know what you thought!!  
> See you in the last chapter!  
> -SS


	8. Our Love Is Your Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say I thought that this chapter was only nearing 12k but then I checked at the end and it was 18k..... Whoops...   
> SO I hope you enjoy it and don’t find it too lengthy!!   
> This has been a truly amazing journey. And I want to thank each and every one of you for all your support, in every way!! You guys are truly the greatest!   
> This is the last chapter and though I’m sad to see it go, I’ve had such an amazing time writing this!   
> Please let me know what you think of this final chapter! Have an amazing day, lovelies~  
> -SS

The funny thing about the world? It keeps turning. 

The funny thing about life? It always finds a way to continue on. 

The funny thing about college? It didn’t care if you spent the week in another dimension of burning worlds and killers, nor that he missed the previous four classes, nor that there was apparently a clone of you walking around. 

Exams started on Monday. 

Hongjoong bandaged the remaining cuts on his body, trying not to look at the agonized expression on Seonghwa’s face as he helped him apply a cream to help them not scar. 

He took a shower, washed soot and blood off of himself, and put on normal clothing for what felt like the first time in weeks. He slept for twenty four hours with another body in the bed with him for the first time in days, passing out and staying that way for several hours at a time, only waking to eat whatever Seonghwa pushed at him. 

He took a single day to recover and get himself in presentable condition. He covered the bruises he didn't have time to explain with makeup. 

And he took his goddamn exams. 

And after exams, there were the months of summer vacation to look forward to. 

And by the time exams were over and they were two weeks into summer vacation… things seemed to have settled down. 

It took that long to get past the breakdowns, the relief, the swapping of stories that everyone took a while to talk about, the recounts and details of what exactly had happened and what exactly they had found. The books. The discussions. 

Tales of other versions of themselves, of hatred that slowly turned to almost-understanding, and maybe begrudging respect from some. The final recount of Hongjoong being taken… and dragged through hallways towards a place that only existed as a horror story. 

Seonghwa’s face paled at the mention of it, and he gave his own story of what that Hongjoong had revealed to him. 

Hongjoong still shook a little at the memories, and he stared around the frat house, waiting for it to disappear. He felt like he was trying to walk with his eyes closed around a room he once knew, but that had every piece of furniture shifted an inch to the left. 

Even after things had settled down, they held their breath. 

For nearly three weeks, Seonghwa’s hand never left Hongjoong’s. 

And Hongjoong didn’t want it to. 

It was  _ familiar.  _

All of it- all of  _ them-  _ they were so familiar to Hongjoong, like the lines on his hands, like the specific way he breathed- he knew it all inside and out. 

His room, his friends, the campus- it was all familiar after struggling just to make it a day without getting faced with another fact he couldn’t deal with.

Hongjoong had been terrified that another alignment wouldn’t happen, but it had happened without warning, shaking him up. 

At night, Hongjoong didn’t sleep much. Neither did Seonghwa. 

Only against their will did they actually fall asleep, and the moment they woke up, Hongjoong felt Seonghwa’s hand groping for him frantically, his head rising from his pillow before his eyes had even fully opened, staring at Hongjoong blearily. 

The others came out of their rooms warily, eyes hesitantly searching for Hongjoong, waiting for the day they might see the wrong hair. He watched their shoulders relax when he would smile at them from the table. 

(Hongjoong hadn’t received so many hugs in all the times they had known each other. He wasn’t complaining.) 

After they woke up was better. But falling asleep still remained too terrifying to welcome willingly. 

What if they woke up and things were just… gone?

They laid in their bed, the place this had all began, and Seonghwa held Hongjoong so tight, it almost became claustrophobic. 

Hongjoong pressed closer anyway. The familiar sensation of his arms, the scent of their bedroom, the exact form of their bodies together- 

This was familiar. This was Seonghwa. 

But Hongjoong… still felt a little cold. Even as he asked Seonghwa to hold him a little tighter, or silently pushed himself into Seonghwa’s lap even though they had been sitting right next to each other. 

He stared at Seonghwa’s dim eyes in the middle of the night when neither of them could sleep now that exams were done (Hongjoong struggling, but managing to pass by a decent amount, given everything that happened). 

Seonghwa’s gentle eyes were tight with pity and leftover fear and disbelief. Like he was waiting for Hongjoong to vanish again. 

“It… it feels like unfinished business,” Hongjoong whispered, staring at their joined hands. 

One moment… he was in Seonghwa’s arms, hard metal beneath his knees, and a confession on his tongue, and the next, he was in Seonghwa’s arms with tile beneath his knees and Seonghwa staring at him like Hongjoong had just driven a knife into his heart. 

Home. 

“Like… I started something over there… and then never finished it,” he murmured heavily, staring at his chest. “I just… It was so  _ weird,  _ Seonghwa. How alike and different everything was- I just… It was fucking terrifying,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t stand the thought of them not being able to have something like this. I started getting him to open up, but then suddenly everything was gone-” 

Seonghwa nodded in understanding, carding gentle fingers through Hongjoong’s hair as Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered closed at the comforting touch. 

His eyes burned with how much he had missed this, even with how much it hurt to leave those other people behind to that world. 

“Me, too,” Seonghwa confessed quietly into the darkness around them. “It was startling. The moment I actually got him to admit that he felt something… he was gone. And you were back. I feel like it’s… like a book missing its last chapter. I’ll just… never find out how it ends.” 

Hongjoong felt guilty. Like he had left unfinished business. Like he had been on the verge of falling, but someone had caught him at the last second, leaving him stunned. 

Like a hiccup caught in his throat that just wouldn’t come. 

There had been no completion. No closure. 

There was only Hongjoong being dragged towards that Room, Seonghwa appearing and holding him, emotions flowing in a way Hongjoong hadn’t thought possible, and then suddenly he was  _ gone.  _

He was back. 

Silently, Hongjoong rolled closer to Seonghwa, fitting between his arms and tucking his head beneath his chin as Seonghwa welcomed him automatically, warm bodies pressed together tightly. 

“I can’t help but wonder,” Seonghwa murmured, voice vibrating his chest comfortingly. “What happened to them.” He ran a warm hand along Hongjoong’s side. “I don’t even know if that other you got back to his universe. But if he is…” He wrapped tight arms around Hongjoong, as if someone may appear and try to snatch him away. “I hope it worked out.” 

Part of Hongjoong thought he was crazy for worrying about those people. If anyone could handle themselves, it was them. 

But Hongjoong had seen too many parts of them that were vulnerable. 

They weren’t soldiers, they were kids. Fighting for their lives and terrified to lose someone they had grabbed along the way. No matter how angry or bitter they were, they were still nothing more than kids trying to protect their family from a force they almost weren’t strong enough to beat. 

Hongjoong didn’t care if that Seonghwa and Hongjoong got together- but he really hoped that something changed. That they might be able to… one day… admit that they were family, at least. 

He wished they wouldn’t be afraid. 

Hongjoong curled a hand in Seonghwa’s shirt. 

“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, eyes stinging with the weight of everything they had encountered. 

Both of them were different. 

Hongjoong had seen things he never wanted to. And Seonghwa and the others had been subjected to things he couldn’t begin to fathom. 

Neither of them- nor did any of them- wish ill on those people who replaced them. 

(That conversation had been strange, the others reluctantly admitting that just as they were maybe warming up to this guy who lost his whole world… he was gone. Wooyoung had tried to act annoyed at him, but he looked uncomfortable at his sudden disappearance. Yeosang looked almost regretful.)

Everything had happened too fast to process- Hongjoong’s disappearance, replacement, and then reappearance- there was no warning. No time to brace yourself. 

All of them now knew things about their world that they never wanted to. Multiple universes, doppelgangers who were you but not, a hundred different lives across a million universes… 

So much was the same. 

And so much was different. It wasn’t something that could be processed in a single week- hell, maybe not even a single lifetime. 

Hongjoong brought his wrist up, staring at the figure eight and the anchor. Seonghwa caught him looking and dropped his head, kissing the wrist gently. “I love you,” he whispered against the skin. “I missed you…I was scared for you.” 

They didn’t want… to forget. But they couldn’t bear the weight of everything they now knew every day of their lives. 

So, they pushed these other universes to the back of their minds until those moments that they were strong enough to handle them. 

Exams were taken. Grades came in. Everyone passed. Everyone was okay. 

Every frat house threw a party after finals, but none of them went to any. They stayed and they… they processed. His friends clung to him- each morning, they looked at him, as if waiting for the moment his other self might come back. 

“If you ever leave again, I’m breaking every canvas in your room,” Yeosang muttered into his shoulder as he hugged him tight one morning. 

Hongjoong laughed, even if he wanted to cry. 

“He really attended classes?” he asked Seonghwa, their fingers intertwined tightly as they all settled in to watch a movie. 

Hongjoong’s face was devoid of bruises, and every cut and scar had healed. 

That felt like the final sign to move on. 

It was hard, though. 

“Just signed in,” Seonghwa assured him, thumb rubbing absently over the back of Hongjoong’s hand. “But yeah… I was shocked, too. I think… I think he had a hard time saying no to me… because I looked like his Seonghwa.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t help the quiet laugh, thinking back to those journal entries that had caused him so much grief. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That sounds about right.” 

Hongjoong found himself sincerely hoping things were better in that other world. 

They weren’t monsters. They were cruel, but they had deeper feelings for each other than it was even possible to have in a world like this one.

Like war buddies. It was impossible for someone who wasn’t there to ever understand. And as he had said before… Hongjoong was sort of glad he could never understand. 

He hoped that the other Hongjoong wasn’t as much of an idiot as the other Seonghwa. 

(Secretly, his heart ached for them. And all he could do was hope.) 

Seonghwa kissed the top of his head, and Hongjoong didn’t complain about it making him feel short. He tugged Hongjoong to lay on top of him, and Hongjoong didn’t whine about it being too hot. 

Being in that other world had changed things. Not necessarily negatively…. But drastically. Everything felt shifted, and so Hongjoong just clung to Seonghwa and his friends, and he rode out the storm like a buoy. 

They had made it through bad times before. And the weirdest thing was that it wasn’t even  _ bad,  _ it was just unnerving. 

Hongjoong didn’t know how long it would take him to be able to sleep properly without being afraid. But he had been in tough times before, and he knew that a time would come when things went back to normal. 

So, they ducked their heads, they held on tight to each other, and they rode it out together, waiting for that day. 

They waited. 

Two dark, black outfits were laid out on Hongjoong’s bed. 

Hongjoong stared at the clothing he had stolen from that universe… and the clothing the other Hongjoong had left behind. He ran a gentle hand over the coarse fabric. 

And he regretted things… regretted what they had to go through. What they would always be going through. The things that had turned them into what they were… and the things they had accepted as reality. 

He regretted never really being able to break through to the other Seonghwa. 

It wasn’t fair. 

He folded the clothes up and put them in an empty drawer, closing it slowly, like putting something to rest. 

(He didn’t open the drawer up often. But it was something you couldn’t completely let go.) 

His Seonghwa held him close and didn’t let go. For now, fear and worry was still fresh, but they handled it as well as they ever had. 

They smiled at each other, they hugged tight, they talked in quiet voices about the things they didn’t want to, they clung together, and they moved forward together- no man left behind. 

They were all strong. Maybe not in wars, but in waiting for a shitty time to pass by?

They were the veterans here. 

Because really… What were multiple universes and emotionally stunted doppelgangers after you had faced multiple years of college?

What were universe swaps when you had survived the Fuck All Finals Week of 2019?

What were torture chambers and hidden emotions you were terrified to realize… when you made it through the Shittiest Summer of your life, when you almost broke up with the best person in your life because of how scared you were of losing them anyway to things outside of your control? 

They did as they always had: they let it consume them sometimes, they broke down over it, they comforted each other through it… and then they heard that 6:30 alarm go off on their phone. 

And they picked themselves up… and they moved on. 

And that was the funny thing about college students. 

Sometimes, they were better at shaking off and moving on than anything else in the world. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa. 

The air between them was palpable and thick, like the poisonous air outside. 

It wasn’t poisonous, though. Just viscous with knowledge and unspokenness. 

The past weeks were off-balanced and strained. The war against Capital never ceased. It mattered not that Hongjoong was still reeling from a confession that he had uttered secretly, and the man in question suddenly being before him. 

Their lives continued on: catching up on what they had been unable to do before, getting ahead on Capital, and ensuring that they were properly punished for their stunt with that other Hongjoong. 

Plugging the leak that revealed the exact location of their base, and ensuring that no one would ever be able to hack their systems like that again. They worked tirelessly to fix everything that had brought about the incident involving the other Hongjoong’s kidnapping. 

Strange. 

The whole thing was strange and unbelievable. Another him, running around, emotional and weak- 

Not weak, Wooyoung had corrected quietly during their discussion. Weak _ er _ , but not weak. 

Seonghwa looked uncomfortable the entire time they discussed what had happened. Everytime he was prompted to open his mouth, he seemed almost vaguely ill. 

Nothing, in all their lives, had ever prepared them for what had occurred within just a few short days. 

And Hongjoong was gone only  _ days,  _ but it felt like a lifetime of things to miss and experience. Like a coma patient living their entire life inside their head. 

With those other versions of themselves. 

“Did you harm any of them?” Seonghwa had asked, looking oddly concerned. 

“No,” Hongjoong responded quietly. “I attacked, but did not harm them. I… After a while, I didn’t want to.” 

Seonghwa almost looked relieved. 

Hongjoong knew Seonghwa was different. 

Everyone was shifted from the events, but he could tell by Seonghwa’s eyes that something had taken him and shaped him. Remolded. 

He didn’t know what or how exactly… but he knew that the way Seonghwa stared at him now was not the way Seonghwa stared at him before. 

And there was only one thing that had changed between those two times. 

Hongjoong was not a vain person. He was aware of his faults so deeply, it was all he could see at times. He knew where he failed as a leader, and he knew where his shortcomings shone through. 

But one thing he was, was perceptive. And he knew that the Hongjoong who was here before had changed Seonghwa. 

In what way, he didn’t know. 

But Seonghwa spoke about him with a Tone. A Tone that Hongjoong couldn’t place, nor say that he had ever heard before. 

And Hongjoong had never suspected his team of anything- never of holding something back, nor of being in danger of leaving, nor anything of the sort. 

But Hongjoong was facing the distinct feeling that Seonghwa… felt  _ something  _ for the Hongjoong who had left. Someone who had been here only days had managed to shift someone who was as constant and reliable as an old oak. 

Hongjoong felt something curling in his gut in discomfort. 

Because he could not lose his greatest support. 

He couldn’t. 

Of course, only moments after making a confession that would never see the light of day again, Hongjoong would see a change in someone he had once thought unchangeable. 

He didn’t blame the other Hongjoong- he was sure no one from that world was capable of consciously planning something like that. 

Hongjoong would strangle jealousy with his bare hands before allowing it to root in him, but he knew that Seonghwa looked at him differently. 

And he hated it. 

He had  _ not  _ been avoiding Seonghwa- that was cowardly and childish, unbefitting a leader like himself. 

But he was caught up in a hundred projects that they had fallen behind on, and he had not had time for anyone unless he was working with them. 

Conveniently, any work that Hongjoong may need Seonghwa for could be handled by another. Jongho was willing to act as Hongjoong’s go-between, unknowingly. 

But, if there was one thing that Hongjoong knew, it was that every action you made caught up with you eventually. Cowardice would catch up with you, immaturity would catch up with you. 

Seonghwa merely caught up faster than most. 

So... Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa gazed back- the picture of calm and collected, dark eyes and composed countenance as he watched Hongjoong freeze at his desk, his pen stalling on the page and creating a large inky dot. 

Hongjoong was not afraid. 

But he had no desire to hold conversation at the moment. He lowered his eyes back to his paper as he heard Seonghwa close the door of his study slowly. 

“What?” he asked crisply, ignoring the inky dot and writing around it. “I’m trying to catch up on logs- make your visit brief, Seonghwa.” 

It was nothing uncommon for Hongjoong to request. Seonghwa knew he was a busy person, and he was always careful to keep their meetings quick when time was pressed. 

However, several seconds passed, and Seonghwa had said nothing. 

Hongjoong refused to look up, pausing his writing to check one of the reports before filling in another space. 

“You have been avoiding me.” 

Hongjoong expected the question, and his pen did not pause, his voice even and guilt-free. “I have not been,” he replied smoothly. “I have days to catch up on, Seonghwa. I cannot stop and chat until everything has been taken care of.” 

“You have been avoiding me.” 

Seonghwa was always too quiet, and Hongjoong didn’t even hear him before a hand was plucking the pen from his grip and placing it back in its holder. 

Hongjoong glared at Seonghwa in annoyance- Seonghwa’s own dark gaze meeting him without flinching. 

The other Seonghwa had not flinched, either. Hongjoong’s fist curled on his desk. 

“I’m not in the mood for games, Seonghwa,” he warned. “I have business to finish-” 

“Even before you left, you did not place such importance on business,” Seonghwa accused calmly. 

“We had not fallen so far behind, then.  _ Someone  _ was failing to keep the logs while I was gone.” 

The statement was absolutely meant to cut, but Hongjoong never meant to say it. 

But he did. And he watched as Seonghwa’s jaw clenched, something hardening in his eyes as his lips thinned. 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa replied dutifully. “I focused too much attention on the other Hongjoong. I didn’t mean-” 

Hongjoong could not deal with reprimanding Seonghwa for an arbitrary logbook that held no real bearing. 

Seonghwa knew the logs weren’t that important. He was right to prioritize something else. 

And Seonghwa also knew that Hongjoong knew that. 

And Seonghwa knew that Hongjoong was being an ass. 

But, like the dutiful, ever-faithful follower he was… he took the blame without question. 

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched as he snatched the pen back. “I have work to finish. Have no one disturb me tonight.” 

There was a long silence. Seonghwa didn’t move- Hongjoong could still see him standing at his desk. 

“You have been avoiding me, Hongjoong. Not everyone- just me.” 

“You’re placing too much importance on yourself,” Hongjoong said darkly, writing too hard, smearing the words. “I don’t have time for this back and forth game, Seonghwa, unless you have something actually relevant to say-” 

“‘I love my Seonghwa.’” 

Hongjoong’s pen tip snapped off against the page, spilling black ink across it. 

He froze… like a prey caught in a lion’s jaw, hoping that if it didn’t move, it might be released. 

And then numbness turned to icy fear coursing through his blood as ink ran off his page. 

_ How did he know-  _

“Those,” Seonghwa continued on quietly, voice low and deep, “were the last words the other Hongjoong said. Immediately after, you appeared and took his place.” 

Hongjoong’s heart had never beat so fast. Never. 

Not in Capital, not in that other world- nowhere. Nothing had ever terrified him so. 

“We theorized independently of each other,” he continued as if each word was not another shovel of dirt on Hongjoong’s grave, “that the swap was caused by aligning the two people in each universe.” 

Hongjoong still stared at his page, watching the thick paper soak up the blackness. His hand still held his useless pen. 

By all the ways he thought he might die… at Seonghwa’s hand had never crossed his mind. 

“The last words that Hongjoong said… were ‘I love my Seonghwa…’” 

Hongjoong slowly set the pen down. His hands did not shake, surprisingly. 

“By our logic… I don’t think it is too far a leap to assume… that you said the same words at the same time.”

Hongjoong thought of several paths of escape at once: Call Seonghwa a liar. Say that his theory was flawed. Shove him out of the room, lock it, and never emerge again. 

Because what else could he do? 

He could not lose Seonghwa. Not like this. 

Seonghwa was level headed. He was the voice of reason- he would never allow something like this to happen. He would never allow Hongjoong to remain their leader, after such a violent display of uncontrollable emotion- 

“Hongjoong.” 

It was so different from how the other Seonghwa had said his name. Familiar. The kind of familiar that you could only draw comfort from. 

But now, Hongjoong felt only dread. He still did not look up, his fists curling as his tongue tasted of ash. 

“Hongjoong, answer me,” Seonghwa pressed darkly. 

Hongjoong saw him move around his desk, until he stood a few feet from Hongjoong’s chair. 

Hongjoong would not be a coward. 

He would not whimper and try and bury his mistakes like a dog hiding its last bone- 

If Hongjoong would be removed and scorned, he would not do so while cowering before Seonghwa. 

His head snapped up as he stood from the chair, expression twisting until he and Seonghwa stood inches apart, dark eyes meeting like a blackhole swallowing suns. 

“And if I did?” he demanded, practically spitting the words with venom dripping like acid from them. “What exactly do you plan to do,  _ Seonghwa? _ ” he spat, almost a taunt. 

Hongjoong would not spend his last moments afraid. 

He would spend his mistake staring Seonghwa down. Until his last, he would never feel fear- 

Seonghwa suddenly fisted a hand in Hongjoong’s shirt, and Hongjoong’s hands both leapt up to grab at it as Seonghwa yanked him forward, Hongjoong’s hand dropping to strike at him- 

Seonghwa’s lips claimed Hongjoong’s before he had even managed to form a fist. 

Hongjoong’s fist fell flat as he pressed a hand against Seonghwa’s chest as he clenched his eyes shut- 

It felt like dipping a cold limb into warm water- agonizingly painful for each moment it brought relief as Seonghwa tugged him closer, both of their lips moving almost frantically in a dance that Hongjoong had never thought them capable of- 

Hongjoong suddenly shoved him back- hard enough that Seonghwa stumbled, catching himself on the wall with a startled look. 

Hongjoong glared at him, his entire heart cursing Seonghwa’s existence as he brought one hand up to wipe at his mouth in disgust as he breathed far too heavily. 

“I will not be a  _ stand-in, _ ” Hongjoong spat venomously, everything in him yelling for him to wring Seonghwa’s neck as betrayal set in his skin. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Seonghwa demanded, looking confused and affronted at the violent rejection, wiping at his own lips. 

“I will not stand here and act as your mannequin,” Hongjoong snapped dangerously, eyes narrowing like knife blades. “I don’t care what sort of feelings you awoke with that other Hongjoong- but you  _ leave me out of it  _ or I’ll break every bone in your body.” 

Hongjoong felt humiliation the likes of which he never had. 

And betrayal he had never known before. 

Jealousy was something ugly and dangerous that he refused to feel. It was petty and stupid. 

He did not feel jealousy over whatever lust Seonghwa had realized with that other Hongjoong, but he felt humiliations and betrayal at the thought of being used as some sort of replacement. A look alike. 

Because Seonghwa had never looked at Hongjoong like he looked at him now. 

And he spoke about that Hongjoong in a way that he had never heard before. 

Hongjoong felt the urge to spit. 

Seonghwa still stared as if Hongjoong had struck him across the face. 

“What- Did you listen to nothing I said?” he demanded sharply. “He confessed to loving his own Seonghwa- not me-” 

“That says nothing for your own feelings!” Hongjoong snapped, fists clenching. “And I don’t care-” 

“He was here for several days- what could you possibly think I could feel for him in so short a time?” 

“How should I know?” Hongjoong hissed viciously. “I’ve come back from somewhere completely backwards- I have no idea what you’ve been up to-” 

“My anger isn’t that you would assume I did something with the Hongjoong who replaced you,” Seonghwa said darkly, something in his eyes tightening. His voice suddenly dropped. “But do you truly think I would attempt to use you?”

Hongjoong felt a knife to his heart. 

He couldn’t speak. Didn’t trust himself to. 

Seonghwa continued to stare, his jaw tightening as if his own sensation of betrayal had gripped him. 

And despite his anger, Hongjoong felt the urge to soothe it. To ensure that trust was still held- 

But how could he, when his own trust was bruised? 

“Regardless of whether I found myself in the throes of lust- or whatever half-formed idea you’ve created-” Seonghwa said, something dripping from his voice. “Do you truly think that I would ever attempt to use you like that? Treat you as some sort of replacement-” 

“What  _ else  _ am I supposed to think?” Hongjoong snapped, angry and defensive and once more out of control. “When you’re suddenly attempting to kiss me out of the blue without any sort of preamble-” 

“I gave you preamble,” Seonghwa defended, glaring. “I asked you if those words came from you- Your entire reaction showed that they had-” 

“Then what the hell  _ was  _ that?” Hongjoong practically shouted, a hand coming up and wiping at his mouth again. 

His stomach clenched the longer Seonghwa stared as if Hongjoong had violently missed the point. 

Seonghwa’s lips thinned, like they did when he was holding himself back from snapping. 

“My answer,” he said, infuriatingly calm. 

“Answer to what?” Hongjoong demanded, seconds away from storming from the room, just to save him from further humiliation on speaking about this. 

Seonghwa’s lips thinned further, his body stiffening. “I don’t feel anything for the Hongjoong who replaced you,” he said slowly, as if Hongjoong were going deaf. “And it’s ridiculous for you to think so.” 

“Is it?” Hongjoong challenged, glaring sharply. “Maybe you don’t notice, but  _ I  _ have- You act differently. You look at me differently than before I was gone- the way you speak about him is something I’ve never heard from you! What  _ other  _ conclusion is logical for me to come to?” he demanded. 

And even though Hongjoong had been annoyed at the other Seonghwa’s disgustingly calm demeanor, he had forgotten how infuriating it was to be on the receiving end of the real thing. 

Seonghwa’s dark eyes stared silently at Hongjoong for several moments. 

“Those looks and words are not for that Hongjoong,” he said slowly. “They are for you.”

Hongjoong scoffed bitterly. 

Seonghwa simply spoke over him. “The only thing I came to feel for the version of you that was here for several days-” 

Hongjoong almost cut him off. 

He didn’t want to hear it. He had no thoughts of Seonghwa lying to him- Seonghwa never lied to him. But that only meant that whatever was coming was true, and Hongjoong couldn’t bear that right now. 

Seonghwa paused. “I did not come to feel anything for him… as a substitute of you,” he said firmly, slowly, picking each word and syllable carefully. “Rather, I viewed him as a separate entity… with his own experiences and life. Independent of you.” 

Ergo: he had fallen in love, discovered lust- whatever the hell it was- for someone else, and Hongjoong was the only lookalike in the area. 

His nails dug into his bruised palms. 

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” Seonghwa suddenly demanded, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Hongjoong stiffened. 

“I am not betraying you, Hongjoong- Nor am I about to add to whatever fear is swimming in your eyes,” Seonghwa snapped. “Would you  _ stop  _ running around your own head and  _ listen  _ to what I am actually saying- rather than whatever twisted version you’re creating?” 

Hongjoong, instinctively, almost snapped back. 

This was Seonghwa’s purpose- to stand against the parts of Hongjoong that couldn’t stop fighting, even among his own team. 

Even amid his confession that Seonghwa was never supposed to hear- 

That was the only reason he had said it- because  _ Seonghwa was never supposed to hear,  _ it was supposed to be safe there, it wasn’t supposed to follow him back here- 

Hongjoong had ruined everything. 

Merely by giving in and being weak. Yet again. 

He cursed that other Seonghwa, the one who had wiggled into all his weakest cracks he hadn’t known were there, cursed him for ever making Hongjoong believe there was somewhere  _ safe-  _

Even in another universe, there was no safety, there was no respite, there was only mistakes that came back to haunt him again and again- 

A hand caught his arm, and Hongjoong raised his other hand in defense, ready to strike- 

Seonghwa stood beside him, one hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s forearm… his eyes no longer sharp and dangerous. 

They were stern and dark. That same look that Hongjoong had gotten so used to seeing as he was torn out of his own head, the eyes of the person he had almost come to see as his savior, the one who he had known would never abandon him- 

And he stared at Seonghwa now… and felt fear in his heart. Fear unassociated with death. 

This fear was firmly rooted in the fact that Seonghwa was staring at him with familiar eyes, and Hongjoong felt his entire body screaming for him to run because those were the eyes that brought out his confession. 

Those eyes- the ones that dragged him up and held him there firmly- they were the ones that brought his secret to his lips. 

_ I love my Seonghwa.  _

He was supposed to burn it after realizing it. 

He was never supposed to carry it. 

Even if Seonghwa asked about it, he should have been able to say that he had lied, that he didn’t feel it- 

Why wasn’t he just denying it?

He needed to deny it- 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said firmly, like a wire wrapping around Hongjoong, forcing him immobile. He couldn’t look away if he wanted to. “Stop running around your head,” he murmured darkly. “ _ Listen  _ to me.” 

Even when those eyes and that voice were the only thing keeping him grounded in the present, Hongjoong had fought them like chains that burned. 

His body was still screaming to fight. But he didn’t. He stared at Seonghwa and tried to take on an expression of annoyance. Like all this was just an inconvenience. 

Seonghwa’s grip was not removed as he stared at Hongjoong sternly. 

“I came to understand the other version of you as a person,” he said darkly. “I began to understand him, his motivations, his reasons… How disgustingly different he was from you… and all the ways he was startlingly similar.” 

Hongjoong wanted to recoil. 

But he knew he had seen similarities in the other Seonghwa. Ones that had no business belonging to him. 

“And what I came to see…” Seonghwa hesitated, and then shook his head, starting over. “The only thing I felt for that Hongjoong-” 

He stood firm, not flinching. 

“The only thing I felt… was guilt that I was unable to give you what he had.” 

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes, even as his stomach dropped. 

“He was frustratingly emotional and vibrant,” Seonghwa said calmly. “And, at first, I saw him as nothing more than a disgusting abomination… But with time, and as he displayed more and more characteristics that I thought were yours alone… I started to think about what our lives might have been… Without all this.” 

Hongjoong wanted to tear himself away. 

Instead, he simply clenched his jaw. “We have no use for daydreams, Seonghwa,” he said, cruel, despite his own thoughts on the subject. 

Once again, he felt guilt. 

“They were not daydreams,” Seonghwa assured him. “Merely musings. I understand that there’s no changing our world- there’s no way to undo what’s been done. And truly, I would not give up any of our sufferings for peace. I value them too much.” 

Hongjoong thought back to that Room... what it had taken from them; Capital... what they had done to them- 

“How could you possibly value them?” he hissed. Every suffering was nothing more than a moment where Hongjoong had failed. 

Seonghwa was quiet for a moment. “I already gave you my answer.” 

“Do not act as if you have been suffering in silence!” Hongjoong snapped suddenly. “Do not act like you have been waiting for an opportunity to confess some long buried feelings- You  _ know  _ that neither of us have ever felt-” 

“We never felt it because we were never allowed to,” Seonghwa rebutted calmly. “And I am not saying that I have always had these feelings. But… I know that both of us have felt something a little too much since the moment we met.” 

“Do you not think there was a  _ reason  _ we were never allowed to?” Hongjoong hissed viciously, jerking his arm from Seonghwa’s grip, blood flowing painfully hot. “Do you think you’re being funny? Pulling something like this when you know very well the consequences-” 

“Did you say it?” Seonghwa broke in, not moving even an inch, as if he was a statue standing guard, trapping him in place. “When you switched back, did you say it?”

_ I love my Seonghwa.  _

“You have no proof I did.” 

“If you hadn’t, you would have simply answered me honestly, rather than dodging the question.” 

“Even if I did, I said it in another world!” Hongjoong yelled, feeling cornered, glancing at the door that was still closed. “I said it in a place I was told was safe- I said it because I thought it would come out and then be buried! It was meant to  _ stay there-  _ It was never supposed to follow me here!” 

It was never supposed to ruin what Hongjoong had fought so long to protect. 

“So you did say it.” 

Hongjoong glared, hate clinging to his heart. “Stop asking questions you already know the answer to,” he spat. “If you’re going to do something, get it over with,” he snapped, turning away and slamming the logbook shut. “I’m tired of games.” 

Truly… Hongjoong was so tired. 

“I did do something,” Seonghwa said behind him. “You rejected it.” 

“A kiss is not the proper response to what I did!” Hongjoong snapped, whipping back around, itching to grab a knife, despite the fact there was nothing to defend against. “That is not what your purpose is in this team, Seonghwa!”

“What should I have done, then?” he asked, eyes darkening. “Thrown you out? Acted out in disgust? Revealed you to the team and allow them to decide your fate for being weak enough to feel something as trivial as love?” 

“Yes!” Hongjoong shouted, gut twisted with each option listed. 

“Self-preservation is against all of those actions, given that I would be thrown out with you.” 

“ _ What? _ ” Hongjoong snapped, so tired of the games. 

Seonghwa lifted a calm eyebrow that was colored with sarcasm. “Did you miss the moment where I kissed you?”

“I still don’t know what the hell that was,” Hongjoong hissed. 

“I told you what it was.” 

Hongjoong nearly snapped. The tension in his chest nearly broke like a wire drawn too tight- 

But rather than exploding, he just felt his shoulders fall. Like a tent falling without a support beam. Deflating. Falling. 

He was tired. And he was beating fear back, but acceptance was just as deadly. 

“Stop it,” he muttered, trying for sharp but merely coming out desperate. “Stop the games, Seonghwa- I am too tired for this. I have too much running around- stop  _ playing  _ with me,” he tried to hiss weakly. 

He turned away, putting the pen back in the holder and walking swiftly around the other edge of the desk, away from Seonghwa. 

Call him a coward, but he’d rather be a coward than spend another moment with words crashing around his mind, deafening in the wake of Seonghwa’s quiet voice- 

A hand caught his arm again, and Hongjoong didn’t snap. He merely turned and glared, feeling the weight of his mistakes in his eyes, as Seonghwa stared at him. 

Also… perhaps a bit desperate. 

Hongjoong wanted to pull away again. 

“I was not being purposefully obtuse,” Seonghwa promised, voice quiet and level. “I thought I was making myself clear.” 

“Half-truths and sentences are not clear, Seonghwa,” he muttered, the fingers around his arm practically burning. “Taunting me with whatever I said-” 

“I was not taunting you,” Seonghwa swore, grip tightening. “I was trying to get you to admit it yourself.” 

Hongjoong’s fingers curled tightly, nearly yanking from Seonghwa once more. 

“But I see now that that was unfair,” he went on quickly, never losing that stupid calm from his voice, as if he were not slowly dismantling everything. His grip loosened until- 

Until… it was almost gentle. 

“You’ve never had the freedom to say what you truly feel.” 

Hongjoong froze. 

Because now… now Seonghwa’s voice was taking on a tone that Hongjoong… had never heard outside of his darkest days when Seonghwa could barely afford to leave him alone with himself. 

When even being firm was useless, and Seonghwa nearly resorted to begging. 

It was, quite possibly, the closest thing to gentle Hongjoong had heard. 

But this gentle was familiar. Not pillow-soft like the other Seonghwa. Not like gentle sunshine and breezes that Hongjoong had never felt. 

It was familiar like the heat waves that flew through the air- uncomfortably warm, but almost gentle when compared to the fire itself that stung and burned. 

Not something gentle, but something  _ gentler _ . 

And it was  _ familiar.  _

“None of us have,” Seonghwa amended. “But you, of all of us, have carried your feelings so secretly, even you couldn’t see them. It was unfair for me to act as if that had changed.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw flexed, ready to bolt again. 

Because either answer Seonghwa gave him was a death sentence. 

Either, Seonghwa returned his feelings genuinely and both of them were doomed to their fates. Or, Seonghwa rejected them, and Hongjoong would spend the rest of his life wearing the mark of shame on his heart for being weak enough to fall in the first place. 

“I do not love you,” Seonghwa said quietly. 

Hongjoong very nearly gagged on his own failures. His blood was cold. His skin, clammy.

“I asked that other Hongjoong… to say what he felt for his own Seonghwa, knowing that it was love,” he confessed, like a hidden secret. Hongjoong’s stomach turned. “Part of it… was perhaps selfish and curious… to see what it might be like… to hear it.” 

He needed this conversation to end now. 

“But when he said it… it felt wrong,” Seonghwa said, as if this was a confusing discovery. His expression remained stoic. “Hearing it… It was wrong, for reasons more than just being the wrong Seonghwa and Hongjoong. That word… does not fit with me, Hongjoong,” he confessed. “I do not love you.” 

So final. So sure. 

“And I don’t think you love me,” he continued on, making Hongjoong freeze, wanting to interject with a million words, but he just remained silent and useless. “I don’t think either of us know how to love. I think we’re just labeling it with whatever word we think can come closest to. But I don’t think it’s love.” 

“What did I say about playing with me, Seonghwa,” he hissed quietly, lips curling as his entire body seemed to slowly burn. 

“My point,” Seonghwa murmured, “is that I don’t suddenly feel love. And I don’t believe you did either. These events did not suddenly unearth feelings we were unaware of- that’s ridiculous to believe we were so ignorant. I feel the same exact thing that I have always felt for you- since the very moment we met. Trust, faith, a desire to stay by your side, to help you, to keep you safe…” 

Seonghwa’s hand slid from this forearm to his wrist, wrapped loosely. 

Hongjoong wanted to tear away. 

He wanted a lot of things. 

“We’ve never been exposed to love,” Seonghwa reminded him darkly. “We’ve never seen it anywhere but those people who took our places. So I don’t want to use that word. It’s not  _ our  _ word, Hongjoong.” He shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t belong here. But that doesn’t mean what we do feel has to be-” 

“You have  _ one  _ more minute before I leave,” Hongjoong breathed, fear taking over claustrophobia. 

This was already too deep. Too much more than they should have ever said. Hongjoong should have already shut this down. 

But with Seonghwa’s dark eyes boring into him without a hint of anger or sharpness within them, it felt like being paralyzed. Forced to sit and listen to his every fear laid out before him. 

Seonghwa’s grip on his wrist tightened passed the stage of gentle to tangible- not restraining, simply holding. 

He paused for only a moment, eyes searching Hongjoong’s face that probably looked pathetic. 

“We don’t have love,” he said firmly. “At least, I do not. But I do have trust, Hongjoong.” 

His stomach filled with ice. 

“I don’t love you… but I do trust you, Hongjoong.” 

Seonghwa took a step forward, and with their minimal distance, it practically had them standing toe to toe. Hongjoong’s mind screamed for him to recoil as Seonghwa was suddenly so much closer. 

Closer than he had ever been without restraining Hongjoong in some way. 

Seonghwa’s free hand lifted, drifting towards Hongjoong’s face. 

At that, Hongjoong did flinch away, adrenaline suddenly surging at the realization of what was happening, how they were standing, what it must look like- 

Seonghwa’s hand merely hovered, eye contact never breaking. 

“I’ve trusted you with my life and more for years, Hongjoong. We’ve fought the world off from each other our entire  _ lives, _ ” he practically whispered into the shrinking space between them. “Can I continue to trust you to do that?” 

It was such a disturbing, pointless question. 

But Hongjoong’s heart compelled him to answer, disgusted at the thought of answering in the negative. 

“You know I swore to protect you,” he breathed, voice graciously not shaking. “All of you.” 

In his concentration not to shake, Seonghwa had laid his hand against the side of Hongjoong’s neck, cradling it with rough, calloused fingers. 

“Can I trust you to keep protecting me, even if the danger grows?” Seonghwa murmured, deep and low. “Even if we risk ourselves… Will you still stay at my side?”

Hongjoong felt ill, like he had been violently spinning and then suddenly slammed to a halt. 

The proper answer was no. Because yes meant that Hongjoong admitted to this version of love that Seonghwa held. 

Not love. Trust. 

Hongjoong  _ trusted  _ Seonghwa- he always had. He always would. 

Was it really as he said? Was what they felt really only trust?

Hongjoong could trust Seonghwa in any situation, implicitly, but could he trust him with something so vulnerable?

Their hearts were bruised, to say the least. Delicate and safely hidden away from everything for fear of what might happen to them. 

Family. 

Trust. 

“You know I would never abandoned you,” Hongjoong breathed, his lungs locking up, as if knowing that he was about to take a plunge. 

Seonghwa’s expression didn’t shift, as if careful not to sway one way or another. 

“Will you trust me?” he questioned quietly, breath fanning Hongjoong’s lips. “One thing we have been able to feel without fear is trust, Hongjoong. Will you trust me to keep you safe, like I’ve tried to since the beginning?”

Hongjoong’s tongue couldn’t have answered, even if he did know what to say. 

Love was dangerous. 

Trust, however... was an asset. 

Was that what it was? Was love something too pure for them? They didn’t have shared beds and emotional saviors, like in that other world. 

They had valiant struggles, day after day, to remain alive. 

Perhaps… Seonghwa had been right. 

It would hurt no more to lose Seonghwa now, than if they did confess to something more. 

And maybe they didn’t know how to love. Hongjoong tasted the word on his tongue. 

_ I love my Seonghwa.  _

It was… 

It was a fantasy. It was a statement for that  _ other  _ world, with safety and no risk of death and loss. It was a best case scenario that they would never be afforded. 

It had no place here. 

_ I trust my Seonghwa with my life and more.  _

That… 

That held nothing but truth. Raw, tested, worn out truth. Maybe they didn’t know how to love. But they had been  _ trusting  _ each other from the moment they met. Implicitly and without fail. 

If they crossed the line they had drawn… Could Seonghwa trust Hongjoong to protect him, given the greater risk? Could Hongjoong trust Seonghwa to protect their delicate, battered hearts from the strain they were putting on them?

Hongjoong felt like he had one foot hanging off a cliff, the only thing keeping him up being the hand around his wrist, holding him back. 

Confessing love felt like a failure. 

But this… 

This was their lives. 

“I have… and always will… trust you,” Hongjoong breathed roughly. “In whatever way… with whatever part of me that’s threatened.” 

He had trusted Seonghwa to tether his mind down, to pull him back from the brink of self destruction he had been caught in. 

And it almost made him want to laugh bitterly, because could anything they do ever be worse than those days? 

Could anything- love or otherwise- truly threaten them worse than their darkest days they had already faced?

Loving Seonghwa was terrifying. 

Trusting him was second nature. 

Seonghwa was closer, warm breath fanning Hongjoong’s face as his entire body stood still, every cell holding its breath. 

“Do you trust me?” he whispered against Hongjoong’s skin. 

The answer to that, regardless of what it referred to, was inherent. 

“Yes.” 

“Can I trust you?” 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly, the air pressing against him like a physical weight. 

“Always,” he swore. 

It was an answer. From both of them. 

More than that, it was a promise. 

Hongjoong saw it coming, and he closed his eyes- clenching them so tightly, spots danced in his vision- 

When Seonghwa’s lips claimed his again, Hongjoong was bracing for it, but was no more prepared than the first time. 

The hand around his wrist tightened as the hand by his neck creeped back, threading through the hairs at the base of his neck and pulling him closer- 

Seonghwa’s lips were chapped from the dry air, and the kiss was anything but slow. 

Their minds had never once considered each other in this fashion. There was no meeting or failing of expectations. There were no expectations or preconceived notions. 

There was just Seonghwa, as he had always been. 

Holding onto Hongjoong, grounding even in the whirlwind around them, even as Hongjoong tugged at him, afraid, he held fast- like a chain and a shield all at once. 

Several moments of paralyzing terror gripped him as he realized what they had done. 

When Seonghwa parted, both of them breathing heavily, their dark eyes met. 

And Hongjoong felt guilt at his fear. 

Seonghwa had never failed him. It was disgusting to assume that he would fail here. It was wrong to doubt him- 

Hongjoong would never doubt him. 

Seonghwa’s mouth opened, perhaps to speak, but Hongjoong suddenly grabbed him by the back of his neck, crashing their lips together, more active this time. 

Rather than recoiling in surprise, Seonghwa pulled him closer, surprising Hongjoong like he had with the embrace when he first arrived back. 

Hongjoong had never been held like this. 

Not by the other Seonghwa, and most certainly not by anyone here. 

The kiss was not frantic and uncoordinated, but it was fast and deep- both of them too aware of their lives to try for something slower. 

Hongjoong had never thought about kissing Seonghwa- not even in his throes of realizing that he felt something more- 

Not more. Different. 

But kissing him was startlingly similar to everything else Seonghwa ever did with Hongjoong. 

Grounding, guarding, a pillar to lean on, an inherent knowledge that there was something there to catch him should he stumble.

Seonghwa kissed him like he had held him during those nights of Hongjoong’s terrors. Something familiar, despite the newness of the action. 

Hongjoong hadn’t realized they had moved until the back of his legs hit the edge of his desk, both of them parting with their breath stolen and the study suddenly seeming warmer and smaller than before. 

Seonghwa’s rough hand cupped Hongjoong’s cheek, barely an inch between them. 

“I will never let them harm you,” he swore breathlessly. “I will not let them take what we tried so hard to build.” 

It was… a startlingly desperate promise. Similar to the first one they made when they built their first hesitant truce. 

It was not just a promise to guard Hongjoong’s heart. 

It was a promise to guard everything. Everything around and between them. 

Hongjoong swallowed, his lips stinging from the kiss, staring at Seonghwa in a light he had never used before. 

“You have never failed me,” Hongjoong panted, swallowing again. “As always, I will destroy anyone who threatens anything I’ve gathered.” 

They were promises they had made before. Those had not changed. 

They simply covered an extra area. One they had always protected, but left unspoken. It wasn’t unspoken anymore. 

Seonghwa suddenly picked Hongjoong up by the hips, sitting him on the edge of his desk without a care for the books that were pushed aside. 

Hongjoong caught his arm with a sharp, warning look. “Do not get cocky,” he warned at the manhandling, even as his grip remained on Seonghwa, refusing to let go. 

Seonghwa, for one of the few times in his life, ignored the statement, kissing him again, stepping between Hongjoong’s legs and tugging him close. 

Close proximity was one thing they had never had- never outside of physically restraining each other. Perhaps, they might have sat nearby when they had sleepless nights too scared to fall asleep, but nothing like this. 

Never had Seonghwa’s hands ever pulled him closer, not out of concern, but out of desire. 

And never had Hongjoong felt the urge to hold onto him without insanity at his heels. 

Everything was so familiar, but completely different. 

Like those versions of themselves… 

Those versions that were able to know what love was, rather than only understanding the concept of trusting someone with your body, mind, and heart. 

Hongjoong preferred it this way. Love was a weakness. Trust was a strength. No one could ever exploit their trust. 

And Hongjoong trusted Seonghwa enough- implicitly, without thought and without fear- that when he pressed forward, forcing Hongjoong’s head to tilt back, his lips parting as Seonghwa’s tongue ran alongside his- 

Hongjoong let him. Simply let him guide him along, as he had in fights for so many years. Hongjoong merely held on, stepping in where he felt the urge. 

Seonghwa’s hand… was careful against his cheek. 

And when breathing became an issue, and Seonghwa pulled away, both of them breathing too heavy into each other’s mouths, Seonghwa rested their foreheads together, neither of them shying away. 

It felt like being naked. Vulnerable. Because Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa could see everything in his eyes. 

Everything. 

But Seonghwa’s eyes fell closed and his fists in Hongjoong’s clothing tightened as he released a quiet breath. Something turned almost desperate. 

“Do you even understand… how lost I was without you?” he breathed, barely audible. 

It was an almost dangerous statement. Reserved for only their most trusted ears. 

“I cannot replace you, Hongjoong,” he whispered, eyelids twitching as they remained shut. “I am a sorry excuse for a leader- do not leave again. I can hardly navigate myself, much less this team…” 

There was regret there- heavy and guilt ridden- a belief of inadequacy. 

Hongjoong’s fingertips pressed into Seonghwa’s shoulder tightly, making the other open his eyes. 

“I always knew I would ruin things beyond repair without you at my side,” Hongjoong confessed, eyes slightly wide as they stared at Seonghwa’s dark ones that gazed at him resolutely. “I realized how much, while I was forced to operate alone.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

Seonghwa’s eyes remained solely on his, waiting. 

Hongjoong hesitated. Not out of fear… but out of confusion. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what was right and what was normal and what was a line. 

But… he never allowed himself to be seen as out of control- so he put on an air of confidence as his hand slowly cupped Seonghwa’s cheek. 

He knew how to trust. 

It was an action almost disgustingly intimate, but Seonghwa’s eyes closed gently at the touch. Hongjoong’s tongue stuck to his mouth for a moment as he did nothing but stare. 

Seonghwa was someone he knew inside and out. And was someone who knew Hongjoong in every way and manner. No one- not even among the team- understood them like each other. No one had been privy to those darkest moments. 

Those hellish nights with only each other to help keep afloat. 

Seonghwa had seen Hongjoong at a time when Hongjoong was sure death would come any moment- hardly even a shadow of himself. 

And he had continued to stand beside him, all of it seeming to lead to this moment here. This moment- with Seonghwa’s hands holding him and Hongjoong’s palm pressed to his cheek where he felt a sliver of a scar from a knife. 

Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa and tried to think if he was attractive. 

But the longer he stared, no word came to mind. Nothing about him was handsome or beautiful. 

Hongjoong stared and he simply saw  _ Seonghwa _ . Seonghwa, as he had always been- weathered and battered, but still standing. Still as strong and resolute as a marble pillar amid an earthquake. 

Seonghwa was mesmerizing in every way unrelated to his looks. 

Hongjoong shoved every thought of their other selves out of his mind. It would do him no good to compare them because absolutely nothing lined up. 

Not love. 

Not attraction. 

Not even devotion. It was all different. Similar, but too different to compare. 

Hongjoong stared, and all he could see was Seonghwa. 

And that was all he ever needed. All he ever wanted. To know that Seonghwa was there. 

“Never leave my side,” Hongjoong found himself whispering, as if he had suddenly been seized by doubt. But it wasn’t spoken in fear. 

Hongjoong… cared for Seonghwa more than he could possibly ever bring himself to admit. Beyond trust and avoiding love- there was something in his chest that reacted as Seonghwa’s eyes bored into his. 

As Hongjoong realized what step they had just taken. 

Hongjoong could not lose Seonghwa. To anyone. Not even himself. 

“The entirety of Capital could not separate us,” Seonghwa replied, one of his hands coming and resting at the back of Hongjoong’s neck, nearly making him shiver at the foreign touch. “I would burn it all to the ground just to remain at your side one day more.” 

_ “Can I rely on you?” Hongjoong demanded lowly, glaring.  _

_ Seonghwa glanced around the base- the others gathered in the living area and speaking quietly about their first raid on Capital. “Second in command is a large role to fill,” Seonghwa commented, almost obtusely.  _

_ Hongjoong narrowed his eyes, expression hardening. “I need this answer now, Seonghwa. Can I rely on you? For everything. I need absolute trust. No doubt.”  _

_ Seonghwa was quiet for longer, gazing at the others they had gathered into a bigger cause than any of them had ever had.  _

_ A bigger reason to fight and live than they had ever been given.  _

_ Hongjoong saw the way his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened, and he felt something between them slot into place.  _

_ “Say the word. If it means just one more day,” he answered darkly, “I’ll burn all of Capital to the ground.”  _

_ For them.  _

_ For Hongjoong.  _

The two of them stood in some sort of limbo. 

Neither pushing nor pulling. Neither fearful nor content. It was as if a boulder was shoved off a cliff, and they were quietly waiting for the moment it hit the ground. 

Seonghwa’s fingers squeezed his neck gently, almost tickling, but Hongjoong didn’t shift under the touch. 

“The others will have a field day,” Seonghwa commented idly. 

Hongjoong’s stomach swooped as he hummed. “It’s still not out of the question for them to throw me out.” 

“ _ Us  _ out,” Seonghwa corrected, and Hongjoong bit back a reply that he would never allow it. “And if you think they would desert you for something so trivial, you’ve lost every part of your mind we sought out.” 

Hongjoong had broken every rule. 

He opened his mouth, prepared to argue all the reasons it would make sense for them to refuse to follow him. 

Seonghwa kissed him, silencing him as he practically bent Hongjoong backwards in a frantic dance of lips and hands taking his face carefully- 

Hongjoong nearly choked on the sudden attack, his fingers wrapped around Seonghwa’s wrist, something flooding his bloodstream as Seonghwa pulled him closer, licking deeper into his mouth as Hongjoong shoved down the instinct to fight back. 

He held on, but he let Seonghwa guide and take them wherever he pleased- unbothered with where they might end up. 

It was not love. It was trust. 

And Hongjoong trusted Seonghwa to guide him straight as Hongjoong threaded too-rough fingers through Seonghwa’s hair- letting him wander but never too far. Letting him test, but never fail. 

Letting him reach as far as he could… but never letting him fall. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong kicked the door shut, finally taking off his apron that smelled like the chicken restaurant he worked at during the summers. 

Yunho and San sat on the couch, frantically pressing buttons on game controllers as Wooyoung and Yeosang watched from the ground, empty plates in front of them. 

The two unoccupied glanced at him, smiling. “San’s getting his ass kicked,” Wooyoung snickered. 

“He cheated!” San burst without taking his eyes off the screen. “He knocked the controller out of my hands!”

“It was an accident!” Yunho fought, abusing his poor controller. “You’re just mad-” 

“There’s still some fried rice left on the stove,” Yeosang told him helpfully. “Seonghwa’s in your room.” 

“Mingi and Jongho?” he asked, walking in front of the TV and ignoring their cries of outrage. 

“Seonghwa sent them shopping. Mostly for food stuff for the party,” he replied, ever the one Hongjoong could count on to just give him a straight answer. 

“I ate at the restaurant,” Hongjoong said, heading towards the hall. “Don’t stay up too late guys- you’ve gotta get back to school sleeping schedule.” 

“Yes,  _ Mom _ ,” Wooyoung whined, frowning in disgust. 

“You don’t bring up school starting again!” San yelled, finally looking away to glare at Hongjoong. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Hongjoong chuckled. “And make sure you clean up in here- we need to keep tidy before our back to school bash.” 

San huffed, leaning back on the couch and pouting. “Geez, you suck their dick enough, and suddenly you become that person.” 

“I don’t want to think about anyone sucking Seonghwa’s dick, thanks,” Yunho said, looking queasy. “And I win.” 

“Motherfucker!” San yelled, throwing the controller aside and lunging at Yunho. 

Hongjoong left before he saw enough to get him in trouble for not stopping it. 

The shouts for help from Yunho, the cries of outrage from San- Wooyoung jeering San on, and Yeosang scolding them to cut it out… 

Hongjoong paused in the hallway for a moment, listening, a private smile on his face. 

It was familiar. 

When Hongjoong pushed open the door to their room, he figured Seonghwa might be on his laptop or reading or maybe calling his mom, since it was the weekend. 

What he found was Seonghwa sitting on the bed, eight loose pages from Hongjoong’s sketchbook that Hongjoong had ripped out staring up at him. 

Seonghwa sat cross legged, resting his chin on his hand and he stared at them almost blankly but with the barest whisper of wistfulness. 

He jerked his head up sharply at the sound of the door opening, smiling quietly at Hongjoong’s appearance. 

Hongjoong’s stomach flipped pleasantly as he smiled back, closing the door and walking over to sit down beside him, tossing his apron away. 

“What’s got you thinking this time?” Hongjoong asked as Seonghwa shifted away from the pages, grabbing Hongjoong and pulling him closer. 

Hongjoong chuckled, letting Seonghwa tug him to his chest and sit between his legs. He settled back against him, closing his eyes and relaxing against his warm chest as Seonghwa locked his arms around him. 

It was familiar. So damn familiar. 

Hongjoong felt the stress from work bleed away as Seonghwa rested a chin on his head, humming quietly. “I was just… thinking about it. School starts soon, we’re having our first party in months…” He chuckled. “Things are sort of back to normal… I was wondering if they were, too.” 

Hongjong hummed in understanding, his chest no longer so tight and tangled at the thought of that other world. They had talked about what happened to hell and back- and there really wasn’t more that they could say. 

It happened. 

They were moving on. 

Sometimes, they looked back, and that was okay. 

Hongjoong opened his eyes, staring at Seonghwa’s hands wrapped around him. It was quiet. 

“Given everything I know about that Seonghwa,” he murmured, “and everything I think that Hongjoong saw him as… I really do think it worked out. Really. Maybe not in the way we did… but I think it’s got to be different.” 

Seonghwa hummed, both agreeing and acknowledging as he tugged Hongjoong further back, tucking his face into Hongjoong’s neck. Normally, Hongjoong might try and squirm away, but he was tired after work, and so he just laid back against him as Seonghwa squeezed him. 

“I hope so,” he murmured against Hongjoong’s skin. 

Idly, Hongjoong wondered if they had ever spared a thought to them. If that other Seonghwa ever remembered that stupid replacement for his leader… That dumb guy who used to draw instead of research. 

He had to. There was no way he’d ever forget someone as annoying as Hongjoong. 

He chuckled to himself, something warm bubbling in his stomach. He wished he could know for certain what happened to them. But, he supposed, he just had to trust that they knew what they were doing. 

And he did trust them. 

At least, in that regard. 

Seonghwa squeezed Hongjoong once more, still in that clingy stage between them, before leaning back and bringing Hongjoong with him- both of them leaning against the headboard as Seonghwa played with his fingers idly. 

“Busy day at work?” he asked quietly, conversationally, genuinely. 

It was warm. The sun had fallen. Everything was good. 

Hongjoong’s lips twitched as he leaned his head back to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder, letting him watch Seonghwa’s gentle face. 

“Sort of,” he answered in return, comfortable and content. “We had a big rush, but after that it was pretty dead. I could have gone home early, but Sooyeon was sick-” 

They talked. 

Not about other worlds or the papers gathered at the end of the bed. But about their own lives. Their own experiences. Their own days. 

They didn’t think about horrors and doppelgangers and missing each other. 

They never forgot. But they didn’t think about it. 

Hongjoong didn’t feel fear and isolation. He felt Seonghwa’s heartbeat against his back, and his cold fingers playing with his hands- lacing through them and holding on. He felt the way Seonghwa’s chest rose and fell in a familiar pattern, and he heard the others still screaming in the living room. 

He felt safe. And warm. And hopeful. 

He glanced at the sketches at the end of the bed- eight familiar but hardened faces staring back at him under dark brimmed hats and cold eyes. 

He looked away, focused on Seonghwa’s quiet voice asking if he was hungry. 

But he never forgot. 

~~~~~~~

_ -and when I had opened my eyes, I found myself back in this world. Much has changed… some good and some regrettable. But, as with everything in life, change continued to flow.  _

_ This ordeal has changed much between the people of my team.  _

_ Only time will be able to judge whether it was doomed to fail.  _

Hongjoong closed the personal logbook slowly. He stared at the worn red leather for a moment before standing, bringing it to the chest in his room and sitting it down among the others- the red standing out from the browns and blacks. 

Finally, those records were done. Not a log so much as a story. Like a legend to be passed down. 

No one would ever see it though. These were their own stories. And no one would ever care to hear about those. 

He stared at one worn leather book and picked it up. There was nothing in it but a single page with the word “sleep?” on it, preceded by a smeared page of brown strokes that looked too familiar and gentle. 

Hongjoong didn’t know why he kept it. But he closed it firmly, moving it down to the bottom of the pile of books. 

He was never one to linger, but he also never forgot where he had been. 

“Finished?” 

Hongjoong did not startle at the sudden voice, merely straightened and glanced behind him at Seonghwa standing solidly in the doorway of his room. 

“Yes,” he replied crisply before cocking his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving with Mingi in a few minutes?” It was not a question. It was a statement. 

“Yunho decided that since Wooyoung’s ankle isn’t completely healed, it would be better for me to stay and watch him, while Yunho went in my stead. I agreed.” 

Hongjoong didn’t particularly appreciate finding out about the change in such a way, but he let it slide. 

Perhaps he let things slide a little too often… 

“Then where is Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asked expectantly, glancing behind Seonghwa at the clearly empty hallway. 

“Yeosang was happy to watch him.” 

Yeosang was never happy to do anything. 

“So, you pawned off your duty onto Yeosang.” 

Seonghwa looked ready to deny the claim, but then he simply shrugged without remorse, dark eyes staring at Hongjoong- almost challenging, but not quite. 

“I suppose so, yes.” 

Hongjoong nearly laughed- more of a warning against insolence than real amusement. His eyes sharpened as they stared at Seonghwa. “Then, what, exactly, are you doing here?” he demanded. “Have you finished reports?”

“No.” 

“Did you even begin recording the intake from last raid?”

“I have not.” 

Hongjoong’s gaze darkened. “Then  _ what- _ ” 

“Hongjoong, if you’ve rejected every other possibility, then it should be quite obvious what’s left.” Seonghwa lifted one, sharp and accusing eyebrow as he entered the room, walking confidently across the floor. 

Hongjoong glared. “I was working.” 

“Hence, why I began by asking if you had finished.” 

“Seonghwa,” he snapped, “if you keep speaking so insolently-” 

Seonghwa suddenly had Hongjoong’s back against the wall, a gentle hand holding his jaw, and the other curled around his wrist. 

Seonghwa’s expression held no amusement, but Hongjoong saw the challenge in his eyes. “What will you do?” he asked quietly, barely a whisper against Hongjoong’s lips. 

In another world, it might have been amusement in his eyes. But a challenge against authority was almost just as laughable. 

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. 

He flipped his wrist in Seonghwa’s grasp, allowing his fingers to curl around Seonghwa’s wrist and twist. His other hand snatched the hand at his jaw and pulled it away, flipping it and shoving Seonghwa away with a knee to his leg. 

Seonghwa stepped back quickly, but Hongjoong kept hold of his wrist, twisting and turning until Seonghwa’s torso was shoved against the wall he had pinned Hongjoong to, Hongjoong pressing against his back to hold him there, allowing him to whisper in Seonghwa’s ear. 

“What have I said about attempting to disturb our work?” 

Seonghwa chuckled, low and deep enough to reverberate in Hongjoong’s chest against his back. Seonghwa peeked over his shoulder, dark expression still challenging in a way that only Seonghwa would ever be able to live after showing. 

Seonghwa’s leg shifted back, hooking around Hongjoong’s knee and pulling it forward, making his knees buckle, off balance- 

Though Hongjoong caught himself and blocked the first hand, Seonghwa’s other came from the side like a viper strike, taking Hongjoong’s wrist and lifting as he twirled Hongjoong almost like a dancer- 

By the time Hongjoong slammed his foot down to stop the movement, Seonghwa’s arms were locked over chest- Hongjoong’s back pressed to his chest as his lips brushed Hongjoong’s ear. 

“Hence,” he murmured quietly, breath barely fanning his skin, “why I asked if you had finished.” 

Were it the other world, Hongjoong might describe it as playful. Coy. But it wasn’t. It was still dark and dangerous. 

But not to Hongjoong. Hongjoong knew him too well. Knew the ins and outs of his voice too intimately- even before these moments. 

Hongjoong continued to glare. “Would you stop wasting our time?” he ordered, though it was decidedly less sharp than the previous complaints. 

“I tried to get straight to the point,” Seonghwa assured him. “You resisted and found the urge to draw it out.” 

Hongjoong was going to strangle him. 

While Seonghwa was still the ever-present rock beside Hongjoong, he was becoming increasingly…comfortable when they had moments alone that weren’t pressured by business. 

(If Hongjoong would take a moment to examine himself, he’d see his own willingness and near-eagerness creeping out, but he very pointedly refused to self-reflect and self-incriminate.) 

Because being with Seonghwa in this way… it changed something. 

Not just the others’ increasingly disgusted stares when the two of them would handle business alone together (Hongjoong didn’t know how many bruised heads he needed to inflict to stop it, but the answer was larger than he ever suspected). 

_ After the initial stares of shock and cries of whether or not they were serious.. It was Wooyoung who spoke first.  _

_ “You understand we’ve been waiting for this?” he asked, arms crossed. “But… for the sake of everyone here… I’m sure I don’t need to bother reminding you that this can’t affect how we operate.”  _

_ “Do you even know them?” San scoffed, looking still shaken, but accusing. “They wouldn’t let it.”  _

_ “We will not,” Hongjoong assured them, watching how they straightened under his dark tone. “And it’s your duties to slit our throats if it ever does, understand?”  _

_ He was not kidding.  _

_ Yunho’s mouth wrinkled in distaste. “We’ll keep an eye on things. You can trust us that far.”  _

_ Hongjoong had stared at them for a moment too long.  _

_ “I can trust you much farther than that,” he murmured.  _

Being with Seonghwa had changed the way Hongjoong viewed the world. Not just looking at Seonghwa and what he meant to Hongjoong… But in the fact that Hongjoong’s world had broadened slightly. 

It was no longer only consumed by work and the almost-reprieves that basic conversation with the others provided. 

Were he a different person, Hongjoong might blush at the thoughts of what he and Seonghwa had gotten up to in the nights when there was no more work to be done in the moment. 

Instead, it only became yet another part of his world, sliding in beside everything else. 

Hongjoong was loathed to use the word “fun” in any context, but there was a  _ relief  _ in being with Seonghwa. In being with someone who had seen him in every way, and in front of whom, Hongjoong was learning to shed every facade. 

When Hongjoong sat in his study chair and put his head in his hands, racing to find a way to capture a target they needed information from… he was met with the same distance and cold, critical nature from Seonghwa as always. 

But when the night would dag on, still with no answers in sight, the cold distance would turn to warm proximity as Seonghwa told him to sleep with nothing more than a touch to his shoulder. 

It was still leagues more than he had ever given before. 

And at Hongjoong’s flippant refusals that were ingrained in his nature by now, the warm proximity turned to heated lips on his own, drawing his scattered focus onto Seonghwa like metal shards under a magnet. 

Quiet whispers of figuring it out tomorrow, and low murmurs asking him to sleep, had replaced a helpless distance that Hongjoong used to find too easy to utilize to his detriment. 

That distance was gone, and Hongjoong was becoming increasingly weak (though he loathed that word as well, though there was no other) to Seonghwa’s gentle prompting that drew him to his bed. 

Sometimes… with Seonghwa lingering. 

Sometimes… with Seonghwa’s staying. 

And sometimes… with nothing more than a touch to his arm before leaving him to sleep. 

Seonghwa stared down on Hongjoong as their little power dance came to a halt. 

His expression didn’t shift from curious and dark. “Tell me to leave,” he murmured quietly. “And I will.” 

That was always the precursor. 

From both of them. Whether it was Hongjoong going to Seonghwa’s room when sleep avoided him too long (“Tell me to go, and I will.”), or Seonghwa trying to coax Hongjoong away from work long enough to rest (“Tell me to leave, and I will.”), or if it was an evening where work was finished and the two of them were moving passed hands and lips (“Tell me to stop, and I will.”) 

When Seonghwa tried to draw Hongjoong away from work that Hongjoong  _ knew  _ needed to be completed… he would push against his chest, dislodging their lips regrettably, and stare at Seonghwa. With nothing more than a quiet request to wait, Seonghwa would remove himself- understanding and obedient- to stand within the room and ensure Hongjoong didn’t need anything else. 

When Hongjoong allowed himself to be pulled away from work, it was his own choice after evaluating his work left. 

They would never-  _ never-  _ shirk their duties to this team for each other. 

That was their one condition. One that neither would allow the other to break. A checks and balance system. 

“Tell me to leave… and I will,” Seonghwa murmured, lips brushing his ear carefully. 

Seonghwa knew damn well what Hongjoong’s response would be, and Hongjoong could feel the almost self-satisfaction rolling off of him as Hongjoong rolled his eyes, grabbing Seonghwa by the back of his neck and slamming their lips together. 

Hongjoong had grown use to the warmth that flooded him- racing from his chest to his fingertips that threaded through Seonghwa’s hair. 

Seonghwa’s hands on his hips turned him so they stood chest to chest, finally getting what he wanted. 

Hongjoong wanted to hit him for dancing around so long, but then Seonghwa’s hands tugged him closer, and thoughts of fighting him were lost in a quiet moan as Seonghwa’s tongue curled around his own, making Hongjoong’s nails dig into Seonghwa’s skin. 

There was no space between them. 

Hongjoong hadn’t even realized they were moving until the edge of his bed hit the back of his knees. 

Hongjoong didn’t fall back, instead clinging to Seonghwa as they parted, breathing heavily as Hongjoong licked his lips, glaring at Seonghwa. 

“We do not have time for that,” he panted, fingers curled in his shirt. 

Seonghwa showed neither disappointment nor understanding. Simply dipped down and captured Hongjoong’s lips once more- slower this time, but reaching just as deep, making Hongjoong want to strike him for making him regret his duty to his responsibilities. 

Seonghwa’s lips brushed his ear, making Hongjoong shiver as he closed his eyes. 

“Do you trust me?” he breathed. 

Hongjoong’s throat was dry, and he shoved down the immediate urge to make Seonghwa work for it. 

“With everything that I am,” He murmured back. 

Rough lips pressed a ghost of a kiss to his neck. “Can I trust you?” he whispered. 

One day, the words may not make Hongjoong shake with fear. 

But for now, he dropped his head to Seonghwa’s chest, pressing against it firmly. 

“Until my last breath,” he practically hissed, eyes clenching tighter. 

It was their mantra. 

Their promise. 

Hongjoong needed to return to work, and Seonghwa had his own duties. But he allowed them a few more minutes of respite as Seonghwa’s lips trails Hongjoong’s neck, stuttering his breathing. 

Hongjoong kissed the column of his neck that was reachable with ease, feeling the way his throat bobbed beneath his lips. 

It was not pure. It was not good or untouched. Their words were tainted with experiences and fear and everything they had lost. Everything they were afraid to lose. 

It was twisted with fear they couldn’t afford to feel and marked by emotions they were not allowed, nor able, to experience. 

But it was theirs. Marked and sealed and owned. Made unique with each color of terror and trust that dripped like ink into water, dispersing and tainting as much as it showed who it belonged to. 

Flavored by fear, but guarded by a trust that had bound to their very blood. 

It was not pure and gentle. 

It was not their I love you. 

It was so much more. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong stared at himself in the mirror. 

He straightened his uncomfortable (but very stylish) dress shirt, glancing at the robe laying out on the bed. 

His stomach simultaneously warmed and dropped at the same time. 

The door to their room opened, Seonghwa sticking his head in, making Hongjoong smile unconsciously as he turned to greet him. 

Seonghwa was dressed in black slacks, a dark blue button up tucked in- his hair parted perfectly to be the picture of a dapper young man. 

Hongjoong had to physically restrain himself from messing up the perfect hair, practically giggling with nerves and excitement. 

Seonghwa stood beside him, fixing his collar that wasn’t out of place. The two of them stood there for a second, just taking in each other in. It was a strange, bittersweet day. 

Seonghwa smiled back, warm and gentle as his fingers curled in the cuff of Hongjoong’s sleeve. “Ready?” he asked, voice just the tiniest bit thick with emotions. 

In a couple of hours… they were out of this place. 

Hongjoong nodded, trying not to think about new chapters and closing books. 

He leaned in, and he kissed Seonghwa firmly- as hard as he could while still keeping himself from wrinkling his shirt and making a mess of his hair. 

He was surprised when Seonghwa tugged him closer, arms locked around his waist, almost like they were going to begin a slow dance- the kiss instantly turning softer and warmer and deeper, making Hongjoong break his restraint and fist Seonghwa’s sleeve. 

His throat closed up shockingly tight. 

As shitty as this place was… it wasn’t college he was bittersweet to leave behind. 

It was everything else. Every memory that had permeated these walls- from his frat, to Seonghwa, to his friends, his art- 

Every good memory that, in the end, outweighed the bad… 

He wouldn’t miss this place, but he would miss everything he had while he was here. 

Their lips parted gently, tongues exploring slowly as Hongjoong felt the urge to laugh and sob at the same time. He promised he wouldn’t cry. He would not mess up his goddamn eyeliner for this. 

When they parted, Seonghwa kept him close, their foreheads resting with their slightly-off heights, and Seonghwa gazing down into Hongjoong’s eyes- warm and deep, like a hot shower to relax in after a long day… 

“I love you,” Hongjoong murmured, purposefully quiet to avoid the risk of his voice breaking. 

Seonghwa kissed the corner of his mouth with warm lips that made Hongjoong close his eyes. “Love you, too,” he whispered, chuckling slightly. “Are you actually ready?”

Hongjoong laughed quietly, opening his eyes to stare at Seonghwa’s that shone. “I’ve never been ready for anything in my life.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, a deep sound that made Hongjoong want to lay his head on his chest, but there wasn’t time. 

They had to leave. 

“No time for intimacies!” Wooyoung’s voice snapped before a pillow collided with the back of Seonghwa’s head, slamming their foreheads together. 

“Wooyoung, you fucking brat!” Hongjoong snapped, rubbing viciously at his skin, hoping it wouldn’t bruise as Wooyoung glared from the doorway- also dressed nicely, though his shirt was untucked. 

“We have to sit through your fucking graduation- I’m not going if you’re gonna be nasty,” he warned. 

Yeosang appeared behind him, slapping his so hard across the back of his head, his gelled hair stuck up like a cow lick. “Then stay home,” he monotoned as Wooyoung leapt away to avoid further abuse. 

The two of them glared at each other for a moment before Wooyoung huffed, stomping his foot and marching over to the two of them. 

Hongjoong was prepared to karate chop him in the neck. 

But Wooyoung simply hugged him tightly- squeezing the air out of Hongjoong with a little squeak before ripping himself away and giving Seonghwa just as quick of a hug. 

He dropped his head as he stormed back to the doorway. “Let’s go,” he ordered, rubbing at his nose. “We’ll be late.” 

“Are you going to cry?” Seonghwa asked in shock as Wooyoung turned the corner. 

“No!” He yelled back, just as loud. “I’m not going to miss you- because neither of you would let me take over for Hongjoong as president, and I  _ hate you! _ ”

His voice failed slightly at the end, and Hongjoong watched Seonghwa race after him with baby noises and cooes. 

Hongjoong stood in the hall, just to watch Wooyoung try and bite Seonghwa for ruffling his hair- 

Yeosang glanced at him from the corner of his eye, a quiet smile on his lips as his eyes shone a little misty. 

“We are gonna miss you guys,” He murmured, like it was a secret. 

Hongjoong chuckled, hands in his pockets. “Yunho’s practically slept in our bed for the past three nights. I figured as much. San tried to hide my robe twice this morning. Mingi tried to say we had car troubles.” He grinned, though his chest ached. “I know when someone doesn’t want me to leave.” 

And truthfully… Hongjoong didn’t want to. 

But he pointedly did not think about new chapters of their lives. 

“Jongho is in the process of putting Seonghwa’s robe in the wrong car,” Yeosang warned him. “I almost agreed to help him superglue the zipper so he couldn’t put it on, but…” He shrugged. “Nah.” 

Hongjoong huffed, his stupid eyes burning as he tugged Yeosang into a firm embrace, surprised when Yeosang responded quickly, tucking his head against Hongjoong’s shoulder and hugging him tightly.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Yeosang whispered quietly into his shoulder. 

Hongjoong looked up- he was not going to ruin his fucking eyeliner. “Me, too,” he rasped, squeezing. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa weren’t going far. They both had internships that were in the process of turning into actual jobs in the area. Until they figured out another place to live, they were going to go back to their parents’ houses for a few weeks. 

Hopefully, within a couple months, they would be back. 

It would be different… but hopefully, enough. 

Hongjoong broke the hug before he actually started crying. 

Yeosang rubbed at his nose roughly, clearing his throat. “So… did you find a way to put interdimensional travel on your resume?” he asked, chuckling wetly. 

Hongjoong laughed, shaking his head. “At best, I could probably label it as being able to work at problem solving with people of differing backgrounds.” 

Wooyoung finally shoved Seonghwa off, running back to his room while proclaiming that he was not crying- Seonghwa had just hit him in the nose and his eyes were watering. 

Seonghwa turned back- his hair already messed up and his clothes wrinkled. He smiled at Hongjoong. 

Oh, who gave a fuck if their hair was messed up? 

Graduating was fucking nothing (it was terrifying) compared to what else they had gone through in the past year alone. 

“Get in the fucking car!” San’s voice suddenly shouted as he came in, glaring. “What are you doing? Why is your hair fucked up? We have to go!” 

Hongjoong laughed as San attacked Seonghwa with a comb, threatening to get Yunho involved if he didn’t bend over right the fuck now- 

Hongjoong went to his room, grabbing his robe off the bed and walking out with it. 

From his open closet door, he could just barely make out the sleeve of a black uniform sticking out. 

He didn’t look at it, though. He closed the door behind him without acknowledging it. 

When Mingi yelled for him to hurry, he paused for a moment, letting the moment wash over him. 

Seonghwa waited for him at the end of the hall with his own robe, smiling and holding his hand out. 

Hongjoong rushed forward with a grin, taking it firmly as they walked out to the car. It was familiar, that weight in his. 

Hongjoong knew that too many things were also on Seonghwa’s mind as they climbed into the car (that Yunho was kind enough to drive), and his hand squeezed Hongjoong’s. 

“Do you think… they turned out as okay as we did?” Seonghwa murmured, rubbing his thumb over Hongjoong’s hand. 

Hongjoong ran a hand over his neck- memories of scars and bruises still imprinted in his mind, even if his skin was clear. 

He smiled, though, at the thought of it… of what had come after it. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, watching the world fly by them- glowing and green and bright. “Yeah, I do.” 

Where their hands were clasped, two figure eights and two anchors rested against each other, binding them together for eternities that spanned universes. 

~~~~~~~~

Hongjoong did not startle at the sudden body pressing against him from behind. 

He simply ran a hand down the line of dates written in neat ink. 

“Does it all check out?” Seonghwa’s voice asked against his ear- cold with business and calculation, despite the warm hands wrapped around Hongjoong’s stomach. 

Hongjoong hummed, nodding slowly, used to the familiar weight against his back. “I’ve gone back the past three years… Capital has been quieter than it’s been in years.” 

Seonghwa’s grip on him tightened imperceptibly. “I’m hesitant to call it a time of peace,” he muttered darkly. “They’ve gone quiet, and then attacked full force, before.” 

“I would hesitate to let our guards down,” Hongjoong agreed, lifting his free hand to rest against Seonghwa’s on his stomach- sharp eyes relooking over information he had already burned into his skull. “But we’ve sent in scouts, we’ve taken people in for questioning, we’ve checked all our sources… Capital doesn’t seem to be planning something.” 

And there was no part of Capital too deep for them to hear about. 

There was a moment of silence. “We haven’t had a raid in weeks,” Seonghwa murmured, almost like he was hinting at something. “The past few days have been… nothing but record keeping for us.” 

Hongjoong nodded, his chest tightening. “No injuries… no battles… I heard Wooyoung and Mingi complaining about being  _ bored  _ yesterday-” 

His fingers curled into fists on the table, knuckles white as Seonghwa shifted forward until his chest moulded to Hongjoong’s back- solid and warm and sturdy. 

Hongjoong’s eyes fell closed as Seonghwa’s lips brushed his ear- not sensual, but almost as if whispering a secret that he didn’t want to say aloud. 

“Has it been a good day?” he murmured, something almost hopeful there, almost unwilling to believe. 

Boredom was not something they were afforded. There was always something to do, an enemy to fight, a raid to enact… 

Capital had been quiet. Things had been smooth. 

It was almost like a break. A break where no one had been put at risk, no one was injured and struggling to recover as quickly as possible… They had checked every available resource… 

He was pretty sure they could call this… a brief moment of peace. 

Hongjoong hung his head slightly, something choking his throat. 

“Today… is a  _ very  _ good day,” he rasped, fingernails digging into the wood of his desk. 

It felt like a weight being lifted- the concept of having a moment to breathe. Hongjoong felt his chest suddenly swell like a helium balloon, making it hard to breathe even as he felt like he might float off, slightly light headed. 

He released a quiet breath as one hand clasped Seonghwa’s tightly, Seonghwa’s nose brushing beneath the curve of his jaw silently, almost comfortingly. 

Hongjoong released another hard breath as he leaned back into Seonghwa, allowing him to take part of his weight as he stared at the logs, checking for the hundredth time- 

This was not the first time this had happened. They had gone through periods of Capital falling nice and obedient for a while, before another round of rebellion would begin. 

It was not peace. But it was a chance to breathe that they hadn’t had in a long time. 

For once, his team could breathe, and Hongjoong was almost giddy at the prospect of them having the luxury to be bored- 

Seonghwa straightened, still holding Hongjoong against his chest, arms around his waist. “You can also take a breath,” Seonghwa murmured, as if he could read the very thoughts inside Hongjoong’s head, and, really, Hongjoong truly believed he could at times. 

“They haven’t had a break in so long,” he murmured, not an excuse, but an observation. A statement of fact. 

Seonghwa hummed, the sound traveling through Hongjoong’s back. “You haven’t had one in longer.” 

Hongjoong sighed heavily, removing Seonghwa’s arms from around him so he could turn so they stood chest to chest. He stared up at Seonghwa- not feeling small. 

Somehow, looking up at Seonghwa always made him feel powerful. Like he could take on the world (which they had already done, so it was a supported sensation). 

Hongjoong pressed a finger to Seonghwa’s chest as Seonghwa’s hands found his hips firmly. “When will you stop treating me as if I’m a child to be looked after?” he demanded quietly. 

Seonghwa did not even blink. “When you stop acting like one.” 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong hissed in warning, even as Seonghwa tugged him closer. 

“If I recall, you went two days without eating anything- and  _ lied  _ to me when I asked if you had already eaten,” Seonghwa recited, like he had a mental list of offences that proved Hongjoong was inept without him. 

Hongjoong didn’t need a second copy. 

“Shut up,” he scoffed, pushing against Seonghwa’s chest- 

He was  _ not  _ startled by Seonghwa keeping his tight grip, tugging Hongjoong back against his chest- 

And Hongjoong did  _ not  _ stare, wide-eyed as Seonghwa face was suddenly only millimeters from Hongjoong’s. 

“It was not a suggestion, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said lowly, dark eyes locked onto Hongjoong’s like a hook. “There is nothing left for you to do in here. You can take a breath.” 

Hongjoong… still did not know how to stop. Likely, he would never truly figure out how to stop fighting- even if he lived to see a hundred years of peace. 

He rolled his eyes at Seonghwa, attempted to dislodge them again with some excuse that he didn’t need to take a breath- 

Seonghwa held firmly, jerking Hongjoong back to face him with a warning in his eyes. 

Hongjoong was slightly taken aback by the second firm attempt that stopped him. Usually, Seonghwa might let him go for a while. 

Seonghwa, however, bored into Hongjoong’s gaze with his, sighing harshly. 

“You stupid, reckless man,” Seonghwa huffed quietly, voice dropping low. “Must I do all the work for you?”

Hongjoong took so much offense at that, he felt his skin flush as he opened his mouth to snap- 

Seonghwa claimed his lips quicker than words could fall from them, and Hongjoong smacked him on the arm for interrupting him, but the second attempt to strike him died as Seonghwa’s tongue tangled with his, making Hongjoong’s hand fall to his arm, holding on as his fingers curled- 

This was what Hongjoong needed. 

Someone who was able to stand against the gales he produced. Someone who wouldn’t crumble against Hongjoong’s fiery obnoxiousness. Someone for him to beat himself against and remain as sturdy as stone in his way. 

Forcing Hongjoong to slow enough to think and realize. 

Kissing Seonghwa always felt like running through the halls of Capital. 

Terrifying, exhilarating, never knowing if you were lost or right where you were supposed to be, outrunning something, running to something, his blood racing and his mind flying, his feet nearly coming out from under him- 

They parted, Hongjoong a little more winded than his pride would allow him as he glared at Seonghwa who looked entirely too content with himself. 

“What have I told you about that?” Hongjoong muttered, hands pressed to Seonghwa’s chest, feeling how they rose and fell beneath him. 

Seonghwa merely inclined his head. “Tell me to stop… and I will.” 

If Seonghwa was going to start something, he was going to finish it. 

“You call  _ me  _ insufferable,” Hongjoong huffed darkly, dragging Seonghwa back down into a kiss that stung his lips- 

His response was enough for Seonghwa to pick him up by his hips, placing him to sit on the edge of his desk, and Hongjoong swatted at him in annoyance though he never parted from him, allowing Seonghwa to drag him to the edge of the desk until his legs nearly wrapped around Seonghwa’s waist- 

It had been… quite a few days since either of them had had each other’s company outside of discussing Capital’s recent silence. 

They were too on edge, too watchful to really ever be finished with work. 

With the decision that they were, for the moment, safe… 

Hongjoong didn’t stop Seonghwa, like he might have, when his fingers dug into Hongjoong’s hips and thigh, pulling him closer until Hongjoong feared he might tug him off the desk. 

Hongjoong did not stop himself from plunging fingers into Seonghwa’s dark hair, parting thick strands and using it to direct the kiss deeper, signalling for Seonghwa to come closer- 

It felt like falling without knowing where the bottom was. 

Hongjoong fell, and he… he… 

He moaned against Seonghwa’s lips when Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around his waist, practically crushing their bodies together as they breathed heavily- 

He trusted Seonghwa to catch him. 

No. 

He  _ knew  _ Seonghwa would catch him. 

“Really? On the logbooks? You know we all have to use those.” 

Hongjoong tore his lips away from Seonghwa’s to glare over his shoulder at San who stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Weren’t you supposed to be going through inventory with Mingi?” he demanded. 

San smirked, too amused at their state of both of them. “We finished. Aren’t you supposed to be determining the threat level with Capital?” 

Hongjoong had become far too lenient with everything that had changed. No respect around here. 

Not even Seonghwa respected him anymore, his fingertips still bruising Hongjoong’s thich, slightly impatient, though he was waiting for Hongjoong to finish. 

“We’ve named it to be a tentative peace,” Hongjoong huffed, pushing Seonghwa away from him. 

Seonghwa stepped away silently.

Hongjoong dropped from the side of the desk, brushing out his coat. “It’s a non-threat right now- tell the others to feel free to break into the wine we’ve been saving or something. Take advantage of it while you can.” 

A break, finally. Even if the only thing they could do was get drunk for once. 

San’s eyebrow rose high. “And will the two of you be joining us?” 

Hongjoong’s hand grabbed the pen from his desk, throwing it at San with the precision of a knife. 

San’s hand swiped across the air, snatching it in his fist, still smirking darkly. 

“We’d be happy to join,” Seonghwa said behind Hongjoong. “I didn’t realize the rest of you were so eager to see the more intimate-” 

“Stop!” San snapped, throwing the pen back, glaring as Seonghwa caught it before it even passed Hongjoong. His lips curled as he turned away. “Fine. We’ll be in the living area when you’ve finished.” 

Hongjoong was currently standing among the first non-threat they had had in years…. Seonghwa was standing behind him… he wasn’t entirely sure if he planned for there to be a “finished.” 

San gave a final dismissive wave, no longer so cocky in the face of their taunts. Hongjoong resisted the urge to tackle him until he learned respect again- 

Seonghwa was pressed against his back again. “What now?” he asked, silently asking a million questions for their next course of action. 

Still looking at Hongjoong for guidance… for pacing… for direction… 

Hongjoong was still debating whether or not to punish everyone for their recent amusement at the two of them- 

Despite the fact that Hongjoong had never had the gall to punish any of them for any reason, ever. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa prompted, nosing beneath his ear pointedly. “Should I simply go join the others? We can, if you like.” 

Hongjoong turned to glare over his shoulder, knowing damn well Seonghwa knew what their plans were. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were dark, and Hongjoong hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt, dragging him down slowly. 

He meant to say something dark. Something amusing. Something that was sitting in his chest, hot and curling- 

It died in his chest as he stared at Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa… who stared at him, almost curious for his next move. Quiet and dark and waiting… waiting for Hongjoong’s word, his order… 

Still waiting for his word to move, to act… 

The fire that had begun to blaze in his chest suddenly turned to a smouldering coal pressed to his lungs. 

Seonghwa saw something shift in his face- the quiet curiosity turning into something sharper as he frowned. 

Seonghwa began to pull away. 

“Hongjoong?” he questioned, eyes darkening in concern as his hand slowly came to rest at Hongjoong’s cheek. “What?” he demanded quietly. 

Hongjoong stared, chest tightening. “I trust you… with all that I am.” 

The declaration was not outlandish by any means, but he saw Seonghwa still waiting, knowing there was more. 

Hongjoong swallowed around the tightness in his throat, taken aback by how stalled his tongue was in his mouth as he stared at Seonghwa- 

They did not have love. 

But trust and reliance burned his chest like the flames outside these walls- the flames that they had worked, together, to fight- 

Emotion choked Hongjoong, startlingly painful as he stared into eyes that had been his sole sanity for years, pinning him into place safely, anchoring him- 

Ah. 

An anchor. 

It snapped into place like a fact of life, in the subconscious of Hongjoong’s mind, even as his focus remained entirely on the man that he trusted above all else. 

“I trust you,” he whispered hoarsely, “with all that I have built. And all that I’ve chosen to protect. I trust you with them, Seonghwa-” 

This. All of this. Everything. From his team, to the base, to their legacy, to their trust, to their hearts, to their lives, to their pasts, to their futures- 

He trusted no one but Seonghwa to safeguard them. And he trusted that Seonghwa would die, like Hongjoong would, defending them to his last breath. 

They had nothing in this world, but the things inside this base. 

And being able to entrust it to someone, knowing they would guard it with the same fervor Hongjoong  _ needed  _ them to be guarded with- 

Seonghwa looked slightly confused by the sudden repeated confession, but it was washed away by the fervor in his eyes, thumb stroking over Hongjoong’s cheek with rough calluses. 

Once again, that utter inability to allow anyone to doubt that trust. 

“I swore to you I would protect it,” Seonghwa replied, low and quiet, boring into Hongjoong’s eyes like he wanted to sear it into his mind, to never forget. “Until the last beat of my heart, Hongjoong, I will not let them harm what you have built.” 

“We built,” he rasped, trying to swallow the stone in his throat, eyes burning but never watering. “We built it… all of us.” 

Hongjoong could never relax. 

Even in this brief moment of peace, they could not truly drop their guards- that was asking for disaster. 

But if there was ever a moment where Hongjoong felt the miniscule urge to simply  _ let go…  _ it was with Seonghwa. And only with Seonghwa did Hongjoong feel as if there were four titanium walls shielding him, allowing him the safety of shedding his weights. 

He still did not. It would be too foolish. 

But even the knowledge that he  _ could-  _ that there was someone with whom he  _ could  _ unload those burdens, should he choose- was enough to make it seem as if he had already laid them down. 

Hongjoong’s head dipped, resting heavily against Seonghwa’s solid chest, Seonghwa’s hand still cupping his jaw. 

There were too many things rushing through Hongjoong’s blood. A million different sides of himself, warring for place and importance. 

Hongjoong leaned against Seonghwa more, and Seonghwa dropped his arms to hold Hongjoong closer, tight and firm- knowing gentle had no place among them. Not when their demons were so large. 

Hongjoong felt the voices and wars fall quiet, his eyes falling closed, only able to feel Seonghwa’s heart through his chest and hear his voice speaking quietly in Hongjoong’s ear. 

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, “and I will give it to you, Hongjoong.” 

It was a statement that encompassed so much beyond their intimacy. It made Hongjoong’s heart twist itself into endless halls that had no exit. 

Hongjoong chuckled- not mirthless, but dark and heavy, as all things in this world were. 

He took another moment of resting his weight before straightening slightly to kiss beneath Seonghwa’s jaw. 

“Let’s begin with moving to somewhere that is not my study,” he murmured, warmth flooding him as Seonghwa’s arms tightened around his waist. “And then we can speak further.” 

They avoided the living area well enough, though they could hear Mingi calling for Yeosang to help him gather cups to drink from. 

These sounds of life were not so familiar. And they never could be familiar. 

They ingrained themselves into Hongjoong’s mind, all the same. 

The door to Hongjoong’s room was shut behind them, and no sooner than they were in privacy did Seonghwa press against his back, pulling Hongjoong against his chest solidly. 

“Do you trust me?” he whispered against Hongjoong’s ear, sending a brief shiver down his spine. 

Hongjoong wished he could gather that trust. 

Wished he could hold it in his hands, to show Seonghwa, and let it drop into a bathtub to gather, bit by bit, to show him how it grew. 

And to show him how vast, how endless it grew, until Hongjoong could do nothing but stare out into a sea of blind faith, like the oceans that once covered everything on earth. 

To be able to physically show him how easy it was for Hongjoong to sit by the shore of it, merely dipping his feet in and letting it cool him, at ease- or for him to leap into it with nothing but his eyes wide open, how easy it was to take a single step and suddenly be drowning in it- 

How quickly it filled his lungs and eyes, choking him with fresh air and cleared blindness. 

How he wished he could show that to Seonghwa. 

But all he could do was catch Seonghwa’s face in his hands, knowing that Seonghwa knew of that ocean’s existence because he had built a castle of blind faith on its shores. 

A massive, formidable structure with walls unable to be breached and doors that were always open, asking him to come in, to rest his head- 

Neither of them could be fooled into thinking they were mistaken. 

But all Hongjoong could do was feel his heart constrict in an almost pleasant way, in its pain, as he whispered “Yes,” without hesitation and without thought. 

Seonghwa’s hands were suddenly beneath Hongjoong’s legs, scooping him up all too easily- 

Hongjoong’s stomach disappeared as he was suddenly thrown back, airborn for a moment before landing on his bed, sinking into the covers and pillows- 

He burst back up, face heated and blood racing. “Seonghwa! You-” 

“I thought you trusted me?” he questioned, shedding his jacket as he knelt on the bed, climbing over to Hongjoong with a curious tilt of his head. “Do you lose faith so easily?”

It was such a lighthearted tease, Hongjoong was knocked back by it. 

Quickly, though, he was physically knocked back as Seonghwa’s body covered his, pressing him into the mattress as his lips met Hongjoong’s. 

Despite the urge to fight (as always), Hongjoong felt a larger urge to  _ let go  _ as Seonghwa’s hands deftly undid the buttons of his coat, lips never leaving- 

Hongjoong was burning. 

Not the scarring flames of the world, but warm breath against his lips, the heat of the body pressing to his, the searing sensation of Seonghwa’s hand holding his hip- 

Hongjoong’s hands trailed up his sides, feeling the dip of his waist and the broadening of his shoulders, lips stinging from the kiss that Hongjoong deepened with a tilt of his head. 

Seonghwa surrounded him- touch, taste, scent, sound, sight- he was  _ everywhere.  _

And like the ocean, Hongjoong drowned in him with his eyes wide open, one leg hooking around Seonghwa’s and pulling him down to rest more fully against Hongjoong as Seonghwa finally managed to peel off Hongjoong’s jacket. 

“Trust me,” Seonghwa breathed roughly, almost bordering towards desperate, into the curve of Hongjoong’s neck that he kissed and nipped at. 

“Always,” he whispered, head falling back as his fingers fisted the fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt, crumpling it, his body heating with Seonghwa. 

“Let me trust you,” he breathed, a request almost as much as a plea, as he unbuttoned Hongjoong’s shirt, kissing hard at the skin that became exposed. “Until the day this world finally gives out, let me trust you, Hongjoong-” 

Hongjoong closed his eyes when they began to burn once more. 

Was this what a time of peace would do to him? Turn him into someone who felt emotions so  _ easily? _

Or was it just Seonghwa? 

Either way, Hongjoong’s leg wrapped around Seonghwa’s waist as he swiftly pressed against one shoulder, shoving him over until they flipped roughly. 

Hongjoong straddled his waist, foreheads pressing together as their breaths came too quickly, Hongjoong’s hand seeking Seonghwa’s face and holding it, feeling the edge of a scar beneath his palms. 

Seonghwa stared up at him- almost wide eyed at the sudden shift. 

“I would return to that Room willingly before ever allowing a single harm to befall you,” Hongjoong whispered, almost a hiss with the intensity behind it. “You will find me dead and dry before I sit idly to let anyone be hurt.” 

Seonghwa’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, still staring at Hongjoong like he was some sort of beauty from the sky, eyes dark. 

They were so close. 

A common position, now, that used to only be used to restrain against invisible threats. 

A position that brought comfort, where before would only bring fear at what might happen. 

Hongjoong’s lips brushed Seonghwa as he practically glared at him, daring him to doubt. 

“Trust me,” he breathed, shifting closer to Seonghwa. “Until your last breath,  _ trust me _ , Seonghwa, because I will defend you until my own.” 

He would defend them all. 

It was not their I love you. 

Perhaps love was meant for another version of them…. But it was not for this world. 

Seonghwa dragged him down, warm lips and strong hands, and Hongjoong went with him willingly, hands holding on where he refused to let go. 

Together, they stood upon the highest parapet of the castle, wrapped around each other as the hot winds whipped around them. 

And, together, they held their eyes open as they let themselves fall to the ocean waves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!   
> Thank you all once again! This was a blast!   
> I’m going to be taking a short break after this, but I will do a poll on twitter soon to see what I should do next! Please look forward to it! 
> 
> I hope you all have an amazing day, and please let me know what you thought of this final chapter!   
> You’re amazing!   
> -SS

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter and CC are @_SinisterSound_ for questions, comments, or just to chat! 
> 
> This prompt was given to me by @sharkwa on twitter, so please give her some love for it! 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought! Thank you so much for reading and have an amazing day!!!  
> -SS


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